Special Investigations Division: Salvation
by Loki's Son
Summary: Admiral Johnson has been kidnapped and it's up to the SID to rescue or execute him. A planet's allegiance stands in the balance and unseen forces are on the move to destabilize the peace.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclamer: I do not own Star Trek or its related properties. All such rights and considerations belong to CBS/Paramount. **

**This is an installment of an ongoing series. Reading previous installments is recommended. **

**Other recommended reading is the _Vignettes featuring Ro Laren_ posted under Star Trek the Next Generation. These short stories include the first appearances of many of the principle characters.**

* * *

Prologue

Captain Adolae Thrax beamed down to the mountainside entrance of the principle city on Omicron Prime. He crossed the chasm found within the cave entrance by way of the massive land bridge. In the stygian depths of the gloom below him, the Lowlies had endured for countless millennia before being led by Rab Daggit on their mad quest for equality.

Thrax knew very little about the Angosian save that he was a civilian operative for Starfleet Intelligence. What Starfleet Intelligence had been doing here in the back end of nowhere was beyond his grasp. Violating the Prime Directive and assisting the native rebellion was also an action he couldn't condone.

The Rigellian made his way into the tunnels that led to the city proper. He recalled when the fleet had been alerted to the encroachment of Omicron ships. The Omicron had allied themselves with dissident groups from across the Alpha and Beta Quadrants and had wreaked holy havoc with the established governments, not that some of those planets hadn't needed a swift wake up call. Their human rights records were worse than the Cardassians'.

Thrax's thoughts cooled as Tressib and Thrax's XO, Commander Sela Hennessy, met him before the lift. Hennessy was overseeing the _Endeavor's_ scientific mission here. The _Sovereign_-class explorer had been dispatched on a lone, extended mission due to the ship and crew's tasked purpose of long range exploration.

Thrax didn't know why he'd been summoned to the surface. All he knew was that his A & A team leader, Lieutenant Tim Prentiss was all hot and bothered over some new find. Personally, Thrax would've been just as happy to receive a detailed briefing in his ready room but he supposed it was good to stretch his legs. His CMO certainly thought so.

"Oi, Guv'nor. How you be doin'?" Tressib's language was now translated by the Starfleet comm badges. The translation matrix had been developed by another Starfleet Intelligence operative named T'Kir. Before the Lowlies had relied upon a native "translator" microbe found in the chasm's depths. Sadly, it had an adverse effect upon most humanoids.

The Lowly was an abnormal representative of his species. Rather than being a two meter tall humanoid, Tressib's upper torso was typically Omicron, except for his lengthy fingers on his four fingered hands. What was unusual, and unique, about Tressib was that his lower extremities were composed of an arachnoid body. He had six spider-like limbs, eight altogether if you counted his two arms. He had the bulbous rear torso of a spider. With it he could spin webs and everything.

Like all Omicron, Lowly or not, his skin was black as coal. This made sense since Omicron's epidermises were highly mineralized. His face resembled a skull with skin stretched over it. Utterly hairless, the Omicron resembled skeletal frames even more by possessing two slits in their face for a breathing apparatus. The normal Omicron had an upper and lower row of white teeth. Tressib possessed fangs, only attesting to his predatory adaptation.

The Lowlies were failed bio-engineering experiments. The Omicron had experimented with their genome for millennia and they had created various useful modifications to the baseline. These adaptations they had replicated en masse. The rest had been cast into the abyss. Before Tressib and his webs, most of the discarded Lowlies had perished in the fall. Tressib permanently changed that equation.

Thrax knew that the mechanism for the bioengineering had been a piece of primordial matter dubbed "ultramatter" by Lisea Danan, the lone Federation scientist that had studied it. It was theorized to be a piece of the "cosmic egg" that spawned the universe. The substance had been lost when the Kelvans had demanded it under threat of war and ejected it from the Milky Way galaxy. It had exploded trillions of light years from the edge of the galaxy and had birthed a new stellar nursery that might one day yield thousands of solar systems.

"I'm fine Tressib," Thrax insisted, "I take it we're going someplace so convoluted that I need a native guide."

Tressib laughed. It was a deep belly laugh and it was a sight to behold. Thrax didn't know whether to be amused or fear for the Lowly's safety.

Tressib finally calmed, without shaking himself into pieces, and he motioned for Thrax to enter the nearby lift, "If you'd be so kind, Guv'nor. I'll show you to where Tim is working."

Thrax bristled. He knew Tressib was highly informal. The Lowlies had done away with titles of nobility or rank amongst the Omicron but that didn't mean he should address Starfleet personnel by a familiarity. He saw Hennessey waving him off from behind Tressib.

Thrax inwardly sighed. Diplomatic niceties lent him to allow the Lowlies their eccentricities. It still galled Thrax. He'd worked relentlessly through the decades to be awarded the rank of "Captain" and command of a starship. He wouldn't let his position be belittled.

But in the end, weren't the Lowlies and the Omicron that worked alongside of them showing him the very deference he craved? So they were loose with the title, so what? They _knew _he was the CO of the Starfleet contingent and treated him as such. If they ever stopped, however, he would revisit this topic.

* * *

The lift descended onto levels Thrax was unaware of. He glanced over at Hennessy. She flashed him a wan smile. Apparently he was supposed to be as unnerved as he was suddenly feeling. The lift stopped and Hennessy ushered him out. Tressib came scaling down the shaft using his own physique for locomotion.

They'd exited into a tunnel. It was littered with portable lamps and Omicron biolights. It was still gloomy. The shadows seemed to move of their own accord and Thrax had the distinct feeling of being watched.

"Commander, have sensors detected any scan fields?" he asked.

"No sir. Everybody feels it though. It's as though…" Hennessy began.

"We're being studied," Thrax said.

"Yessir," Hennessy heartily agreed, "It gets worse as you near the monolith."

"Monolith?" Thrax repeated.

Hennessy's expression was a rueful one, "I take Lt. Prentiss was less than forthcoming."

"He just said the fate of civilization hung in the balance," Thrax explained.

"Sounds like him," Hennessy groaned, "His hyperbole surrounding this project grows by leaps and bounds with every new discovery."

"Let's teach him the error of his ways, hmm?" Thrax suggested.

* * *

They walked in uncomfortable silence. Having Tressib's unsettling bulk looming behind them didn't help any. Up ahead was a conglomeration of lights. As they entered the light Thrax discovered that it was all focused on an ebon monolith standing erect and alone on a rotunda. The walls of the rotunda were illuminated with an arcane script of sorts. They undoubtedly illuminated one as to the purpose of the space and its lone occupant.

Lt. Prentiss was scanning the monolith with a high powered sensor almost as sensitive as one mounted on the _Endeavor_. The A & A Officer looked frustrated. He let loose some choice curses and deactivated the scanner.

"Problems, Lieutenant?" Thrax asked.

It was the first time that Prentiss realized that his CO was there, "Sorry, sir. I didn't see you."

"That was obvious," Thrax dryly commented.

Prentiss's cheeks began to color. Hennessy bailed him out, "That sensation that you're feeling doesn't affect the Omicron. They feel something akin to…reverence in the presence of the monolith."

Thrax turned to Tressib. The arachnoid hybrid wore a blissful expression, "Is this true?"

"Oh, yeah," Tressib happily confirmed it.

"What do we know about this structure?" Thrax asked.

"It's littered with messages in a foreign script. It doesn't match anything in our databases," Prentiss answered, "That includes the Delta and Gamma Quadrant records as well."

Thrax frowned, "What about this monolith? Any distinguishing marks?"

"The monolith appears to be a computer of some kind. Its surface will display inputted messages. The input is provided by means of a touch screen keyboard with 47 symbols. Those same symbols comprise the messages on the walls," Prentiss explained.

"And there's no way of ascertaining which of these symbols relate to our own alphabets," Thrax unhappily surmised.

"Not without a corollary translation into a known tongue," Prentiss unhappily admitted.

"Have you tried randomly inputting in a message and seeing how it will respond?" Thrax impatiently inquired.

"It doesn't work for us. It only responds to the Omicron," Prentiss revealed.

"So have them type in some gibberish and see what it does," Thrax demanded.

"Sir, that could yield anything from a banal response to a planetary self destruct. We just don't know," Prentiss warned.

"I'll take full responsibility if we lose the planet," Thrax insisted.

"Tressib?" Prentiss asked.

"Shore, shore," The hybrid chuckled.

He shuffled forward and ran his hand down the surface of the monolith. It was as smooth and shiny as glass. A backlit cursor appeared as well as a virtual keyboard. He inputted several scrawled notes and then hit what they assumed was "enter." He repeated this exercise several times and then the Monolith's "screen" went blank. A geometric shape appeared and a flash of light erupted from the structure.

The Starfleet lamps all exploded and sparks showered the A & A team. The biolights held their ground but even they gave the monolith a wide berth after that. Thrax spun into damage control mode.

"Lt. Prentiss, is your team all right?" the Captain asked.

"Yes sir, but the comm relay network we laid out between here and the surface seems to be down. I can't raise the ship," Prentiss announced.

"Tressib, can you lead me back to the lifts and the surface?" Thrax requested, "I have to contact the _Endeavor_."

"Follow me!" Tressib scuttled off.

"Commander, over see the situation here and get back to me in an hour," Thrax ordered Hennessy.

"Yessir," She replied.

* * *

It took a good thirty minutes to reach the exit of the massive cave that led to the labyrinth the Omicron dwelt in. He hit his comm badge, "Thrax to _Endeavor_."

"Gev here," Came the voice of his Tellarite 2nd Officer, "Are you all right?"

"Forget about me. What's the ship's status?" Thrax wanted to know.

"All primary systems are blown. We're functioning on auxiliary systems _and_ power," Gev reported.

"What did this?" Thrax asked.

"We were hit by an extremely powerful subspace pulse. Our best guess is it was a comm pulse. It erupted out of that entire mountain range the Omicron live in. No Federations ship has ever recorded a pulse of that strength."

"Do you have any idea of what or where it's aimed at?" Thrax knew the situation was entirely out of his control and he _hated_ that feeling.

"It went corewards. That's all we know. Sensors only came back on-line in time to catch its wake. Now if it bounces of any relays along its way it could end up almost anywhere near the galactic core. There's just no way of knowing at this point," Gev laid it out.

"Any chance you could transport me back to the ship?" Thrax wondered.

"Sorry. Transporters were declared a "non-vital" system and were taken off-line. Debate it with our Chief Engineer," Gev said sourly.

"I'm sure you did enough arguing for the both of us," Thrax chuckled, "I'll be checking in with Commander Hennessey and the A& A team in an hour. I'll let you know what we've found on our end."

"Hopefully we can bring you back then," Gev wished, "If not, I'll kill Sonya."

"Please leave Commander Gomez alive, we need her expertise," Thrax requested.

"Can I at least put the fear of her native god into her?" Gev asked.

"Feel free," Thrax relented, "Out."

Thrax wondered what they'd unleashed. Commanders Danan and Andreja Sikorsky had theorized that the Omicron were an artificially created race. At one time they had ruled a large chunk of the Alpha Quadrant that rivaled the Federation at the very least.

What if those creators had left a means of communication behind? A means that had been forgotten over the countless millennia? More to the point, what if they were still alive and they decided to answer their misbegotten signal? What had _he_ unleashed?

With the weight of unfathomable quandaries weighing him down, Thrax returned to his people struggling to find answers at the source.


	2. Chapter 2

10 Salvation

Celeste Rockford strolled into the corporate office shared by Brin Macen and Tom Riker. The outer desk, which was adjacent to Riker's private office, was manned by Bryce Fanning. Fanning smiled and alerted Rockford to the fact that Macen had no pressing appointments. Fanning watched her go into the inner office with a sigh. She still missed T'Kir after the last 18 months since her death and nothing would change that, even if Macen was moving on.

Rockford found Riker was in the space as well. T'Kir's desk had been removed from the area and a couch and a bookshelf had been brought in in its place. Riker sat straddling one of the chairs that were typically in front of Macen's desk but Riker had moved it so it was alongside Macen's spot so that they could easily pass padds back and forth as they reviewed potential contracts.

Macen usually propped the reinforced glass door open and today was no exception. Realizing she'd entered the area without the notice of the two men, she smiled. Placing her fingers into her mouth, she let out a shrill whistle. It was a calculated risk seeing as how Macen was armed and might react strongly. She trusted his instincts as she had on countless occasions. She'd also faced him down on three separate occasions before joining the SID and she knew his reactions were under a modicum of restraint. She'd hate to see what he'd be like unleashed.

Riker was still surprised by the interruption but Macen grinned, "Aren't you needed at Rockford Investigation's hub office?"

She smiled as she swept on over to the couch and took a seat, "Been there and done that. This serving 'on an advisory capacity' is a lot easier than it sounds. My people are good. They don't need willy nilly interference from me. When they need help they'll ask for it."

Riker was a little uncomfortable with the way she looked at him when she said "willy nilly interference." Macen had obviously picked up on it as well because he shook his head.

Rockford frowned, "Why are you looking like you're ready to thrash me for my cappuccino?"

"Because I am," Macen admitted.

"Hold on to your seat and restrain yourself," Rockford warned, "I _will_ hurt if you come between my coffee and I."

"You could always get me one," Macen playfully suggested.

"And leave my couch?" Rockford faux complained, "I just got comfy."

"I'd owe you," Macen said suggestively.

Rockford's eyebrow arched, "Oh really? You'd be my willing slave?"

"I don't know if I'd go that far," Macen hedged.

"Slave or nothing," Rockford demanded, "Your coffee is on the line here. Just think about that. It'll be a caramel vanilla latte made the way that only Roberta can do it."

"Roberta's working?" Macen perked up.

"It _is_ her shift," Rockford remarked dryly.

"One of Roberta's lattes, eh? Might be worth it after all," Macen opined.

"So we have a deal?" Rockford asked in a chipper tone.

"We have a deal," Macen conceded.

Rockford wore a knowing expression, "Well, you're in luck. This week I'm taking applications for a love slave."

"I've got this nailed," Macen joked.

Rockford wagged her finger, "Not so fast, buster. You'll have to get in line with the rest and fill out an application and then I'll have to see your résumé. After that comes the interviews and, of course, the auditions."

"Of course. The auditions," Macen deadpanned.

"Come prepared for anything," Rockford winked and exited the Macen's office.

"I'll be back!" she called out as she exited the main office.

"You two seem very happy," Riker observed.

"I hear a '_but_'," Macen surmised.

"She's not T'Kir," Riker pointed out the staggeringly obvious.

"Really? Is that what happened to her ears?" Macen quipped.

"You know what I mean," Riker said.

"I'm not sure that I do," Macen admitted.

"It's just, what would T'Kir do? About you and Celeste?" Riker blurted.

"Ah, the age old WWTD," Macen got it, "You do know I'm carrying her katra?"

"That's another thing…" Riker began to huff.

"T'Kir's happy," Macen revealed, "She's very much alive within my head and she'd let me know if she were unhappy. Trust me. As it is I get waves of contentment radiating from the portion of my psyche that she occupies."

"How can you know that?" Riker wanted to know.

"Because she's there, beneath the surface all the time. It's like maintaining our telepathic rapport. She's with me in essence but not in body," Macen tried to explain.

"You people weird me out," Riker confessed, "Even when you're dead."

"Does seem to happen quite a bit," Macen philosophically mused.

"But aren't you supposed to take a katra to Vulcan?" Riker suddenly blurted.

"That's one option," Macen slyly smiled.

"Lees did some research into this. Holding onto a katra too long can melt your brain," Riker warned.

Macen was amused. Lisea Danan would look up the Vulcan rituals out of concern for him. They'd shared a lot in the past and now in the present but it didn't mean she was right.

"Yes, T'Prynn told me the stories," Macen said obliquely.

"Who?" Riker was befuddled.

Macen waved it aside, "It was before your time."

"With you everything was before my time," Riker grumped.

"The joys of a relatively long life," Macen grinned

Macen's comm/comp chimed. He toggled it and Fanning's face appeared, "Chris Pike has cleared a window for you to talk to Admiral Forger. The Admiral will be contacting you in fifteen minutes. Chris is uploading the contract proposal now so you can be prepared for the admiral."

"Thanks Bryce. I'll be ready," Macen replied jovially.

The screen shifted to a series of file folders. Each was labeled differently and accessed different aspects of the proposed case. Macen counted the sheer number of folders and whistled.

"Someone's got a burr under their saddle," Macen opined. He handed Riker an empty padd and keyed it to copy the files into it. After it dinged he handed it to Riker.

"This way you can keep up," He relayed.

Riker and Macen both opened the folder marked "Overview". As he read it, Riker suddenly exclaimed, "Oh my God."

Macen's guts clenched as he took in the information.

* * *

72 hours before…

The Federation starship _Intrepid_ was leaving orbit from around Felkor III. The ship and crew had been there for four hours. Their usual passenger, Admiral Robert Tavar Johnson, was acting in his capacity as Starfleet's Diplomatic Envoy. That position essentially boiled down to being Chief Cook and Troubleshooter. The _Intrepid _was essentially the giant gun behind the diplomacy.

Captain James McKinley was used to being at the short end of the stick when it came to crisis management. The standard protocol was for the _Intrepid _to put out brush fires while Johnson brought to conflicting sides together for mediation. That was pretty much what was happening this time around but the difference lay in the fact that the opposing sides both dwelt on the same planet rather than separate star systems.

If this had occurred on a non-aligned world, the Federation Council would have declared it off limits and Starfleet wouldn't have gotten involved. But since Felkor was one of the numerous protectorates that the Federation had signed up in the wake of the Dominion War, it was now obligated to quell the brush fire before it erupted and possibly interfered with Starfleet's primary interest these days, the expansion into the Taurus Reach. That effort had stalled over a hundred years ago with the destruction of Starbase 47 and the end of the Vanguard mission but events were in motion that were drawing the power back into the region.

That meant a backdoor conflict like Felkor, which threatened to draw in its neighbors, couldn't run unabated. Adding to the escalation of tensions was the planet's proximity to Ekos and Zeon. The Nationalist Socialist coalition that ran the sibling worlds were grave opponents to ethnic cleansing. Have succumbed to such madness a century before, they knew the danger to even the subtlest prejudice. Their newfound wealth in latinum and their trade agreements with the Ferengi and the Federation made them well equipped interlopers.

Their incursions into the system grew bolder every day. The _Intrepid _spent most of her time on patrol aiding the Felkorian authorities. Once a week, the ship returned to Felkor for a few hours so Johnson could brief Starfleet and the Federation Council. His security detail would also be rotated then. The only constant on the team was Lt. Commander Ian Delaney, the _Intrepid's _Chief of Security and Chief Tactical Officer. He was Johnson's appointed bodyguard.

Delaney's deputy was handling her responsibilities with a flourish but she still wasn't Delaney. McKinley was used to having his Tactical Officer's knowledge and wisdom on tap. Added to the losses this trip was Commander Jonathan Striker, the ship's XO. McKinley and Johnson had tasked the 1st Officer to use his connections inside of Starfleet Intelligence to flesh out the picture they were facing. Both the Felkorian authorities and the opposition were nebulous on some details and flat out lying on others.

Striker had been the Chief Intelligence Officer aboard the _Galaxy_-class incarnation of the _Intrepid_. He'd been replaced in that capacity by Lt. Commander Jennifer Marie Massolli aboard the latest _Akira_-class carrier. She'd proven invaluable as Striker's right hand and had originally been slated to brief the admiral. Striker had been elected due to his rank and position aboard the ship. The Felkorians did love rank and titles.

"Mr. Pedrossi, set course for the Ekosian border, warp 6," McKinley ordered Lt. Alesandro Pedrossi, the ship's Chief CONN Officer.

Pedrossi's fingers danced over the touch screen LCARS interface and the ship surged forward. McKinley got up and stretched his legs. He noted that Massolli seemed extremely interested in her signal intercepts. He couldn't help but notice that the blonde had returned to her naturally raven hair color. He decided it was none of his business, either way she was a striking woman.

The newly minted Lt. Commander Elizabeth "Liz" Liefers sat at her Flight Operations console talking to the equally newly minted Lt. Emily Johnson. Both women had earned their elevation in rank through hard work and excellence. So why were they sitting around swapping cock and bull stories? McKinley thought he'd find out.

"At ease ladies, or are you already there?" he asked.

Liefers looked perturbed, "Permission to speak freely, sir?"

McKinley thought about it. He could regret this, "Granted."

"Just what the _frinx _am I supposed to do until we roll fighters?" she asked in exasperation.

McKinley realized she had a point. A damn good one too. What were his fighter jocks and their Flight Leader doing but resting on their backsides?

"I suppose we could run a few patrols after we get to the border," McKinley offered.

"Yes!" Liefers bounced out of her seat and kissed McKinley's cheek, "That's from the squadrons."

McKinley wiped his cheek in mock protest, "Just don't let Chief Caplan see you do that. He's liable to place an unstable warp core under my bed."

"Robert wouldn't dare!" Liefers defended her man.

McKinley chuckled. It had taken nearly five years to get Commander Robert Caplan and then-Lieutenant Liz Liefers to admit they had feelings for one another. Now they were inseparable. Thoughts of Caplan naturally shifted to those of his protégé.

"And you, Lt. Johnson? Do you feel you've earned a right to lolly gag on my bridge? McKinley jested.

"Technically I'm not here, sir," She quipped.

"You mind explaining that, Lieutenant? You certainly look here," McKinley countered.

"I'm shadowing Ensign Thiroz. She complained that I was badgering her. I'm now on stand-by in case a consultation is needed." Johnson explained.

McKinley looked to the Engineering station. The young Andorian _zhen_ looked bewildered. He turned to Johnson, "You're up, Lieutenant."

Johnson blushed and she scurried off to aid Thiroz. McKinley called after her, "And Lieutenant, I expect you to be more aware in the future or I'll have to write you up."

Johnson was thoroughly chastised. Except for that incident in the bar on Rigel III her record was spotless. He'd like to see it remain so.

"Captain?" Massolli called out to him, "I think you need to see this."

He approached her station and saw that she was rapidly downloading files to a padd. She finished up and handed him the padd. He reviewed the first file folder. It contained a lot of traffic between to classified sources. That irked him because his clearance rating exceeded hers.

"What am I looking at, Commander?" he asked.

"I can't be positive but certain key indicators show a potential for movement," She reported.

McKinley stared at her for a moment. Had the treatment that restored her hair color also addled her mind? "You mind explaining that?"

"I think they're going to kidnap Admiral Johnson," She came out and said.

"The rebels?" he asked.

"No sir, the government," She clarified.

"But why?" McKinley couldn't quite wrap his mind around this. The _government_ had asked for their presence.

"To quote intercept 17, 'to gain an advantage over the next negotiator'," Massolli said.

"Pedrossi, full stop! Bring us about and return us to orbit." McKinley ordered as he headed for his seat. Sensing the urgency, the crew got busy.

Admiral Johnson strode forward. Delaney flanked him on his right and Striker was on his left. That left Gorag and Mozz behind them. Like Delaney, they were both armed.

As they entered the Great Hall, they saw the leaders of the two respective sides standing beside each other. More to the point, they looked smug. The honor guard to either side of the Starfleet personnel suddenly lowered their rifles into a firing position and had them aimed at the negotiators and their security detail.

Delaney and the two crewmen had their phasers drawn. Johnson shook his head, "I only wish this was a surprise. Commander Striker had just finished explaining to me that you were on the verge of an agreement, one consolidating the Orion Syndicate's power on this world."

Grezz, a native Daldan, one of the ethnic alien minorities in the dispute proudly confirmed the news, "Yes, my people are to become enforcers. The Syndicate has been so impressed with us and we will project its will across the quadrant."

"And you, Blek, what do you get?" Johnson asked the native Felkorian.

"Freedom from this accursed struggle and the revenue from gaming centers," Blek happily declared, "Of course, there is also the bounty on your head."

Johnson knew there was a bounty on his head but he'd long ago stopped keeping track of its worth. With all of the Syndicate strongholds he'd liberated and shut down over the last 18 months since Sindis's death, it had to be quite a sum by now.

"If I surrender, will you let my men go?" Johnson counter proposed.

"No. But I will let them live as prisoners," Blek issued his rebuttal.

"Stand down everyone." Johnson ordered.

"Sir, I can get you out of this." Delaney insisted.

"Ian, these weapons don't have a stun setting. You'll only get yourself and your two crewmen killed. Alive we may escape," Johnson argued.

Delaney hesitated. Johnson intervened as the honor guard took aim, "Think of Hannah, Ian. You're to be married in six months. Don't make her a widow before she's a bride."

_That_ got through. Delaney tossed his phaser to the closest guard. His two Security officers did the same. They surrounded the Starfleet team and marched them out of the Hall.

"You have enough transport inhibitors to guard them?" Grezz asked.

"You were never able to break into the prison, now were you?" Blek taunted, "Come, now we make a joint statement to Captain McKinley ordering the _Intrepid_ out of the system and make our demands to the Federation Council."

"I think I could learn to appreciate working with you after all." Grezz laughed.

"Thank the prostitute that took over after Sindis's death," Blek deflected the praise, "It was she that showed me the wisdom of cooperation with both you and the Syndicate."

Grezz chortled, "And like me, it took a lot of latinum to grease the wheels."

"Of course. Am I a fool?" Blek laughed as well.

* * *

McKinley swore as the transmission ended. He ordered a comm channel be opened to Starfleet Command. Particle beams suddenly lanced from the surface into orbit and penetrated the hull in seven locations. Explosions rocked the ship. Photon torpedoes also came at the crew as they struggled to raise shields. McKinley ordered them to break orbit and set an exit vector at max impulse.

"Talk to me, Jameson. Why didn't our sensors warn us of those disruptor bursts and torpedoes?" McKinley queried his Deputy Tactical Officer.

Heather Jameson met him unflinchingly, "They weren't using target locks. The disrupters must have been visually guided and the torpedoes were on ballistic courses. Our sensors aren't set up for that."

"Johnson! Shag ass over here and calibrate the sensors so they alert us from now on." McKinley ordered.

"Umm…I'm not sure that's possible," she replied.

"You're the whiz kid engineer Caplan's always bragging about. It's time to prove he's right." McKinley demanded.

"Yessir." Johnson said crisply and she moved to the tactical station.

"Get me Starfleet Command." McKinley requested, "I need to report a hostage situation."

* * *

72 hours later…

"Have no fears, I'm back," Rockford said as she entered the room carrying Macen's coffee. She saw the looks on Macen and Riker's faces and her mood fell, "Why do I get the feeling the other shoe dropped?"

"It did and it landed on Bob Johnson." Macen said as he gratefully accepted the cup from her.

"The Admiral?" she wondered, "Your ambassador friend?"

"The same." He explained, "They also have Ian Delaney and Jonathan Striker amongst others."

"Delaney? Hannah's not going to like that. More to the point she may destroy the planet looking for him," Rockford whistled.

"We'll keep her reined in." Macen promised.

"Oh, you are so not dumping that on me," she warned.

"Never say never," Macen replied.

"Argh." Rockford growled as she headed for the door, "I'll be at my agency squaring everything away so we can sneak off on another secret mission."

"Now what?" Riker asked.

"Now we sift through the data and start planning on how we're going to pull Bob out of there while we wait for Amanda's call," Macen answered.

"Can't Starfleet do its usual shtick and negotiate ad nausaem until the bad guys release them just to shut the negotiator up?" Riker wanted to know.

Macen grimaced, "You know it isn't that easy. Bob's on the Council of Five. The bad guys obviously don't know that or they'd have him strapped to a surplus Klingon mind sifter and be tearing his brain apart while we sit here."

Riker stood, "I'll get Bryce working on the crew recall and alert Parva that we're taking the _Obsidian_ out."

Macen toasted him with his coffee cup, "I'm not going anywhere."

As the taller man departed, Macen began opening file folders, "Okay guys, how'm I going to get you out of there?"


	3. Chapter 3

8 Salvation

Amanda Forger's features filled Macen's screen. She looked concerned. Just as she had for every discussion since T'Kir's death. Macen saw her expression and sighed.

"It's all right, Amanda. I haven't blown anything up or tried to kill anyone for at least six hours," was his sarcastic quip.

After T'Kir's death, it had taken Macen a year to convince Forger, Nechayev, and the rest of the Council of Five that he wasn't dangerously unstable. They'd referred to him as a "time bomb". He of course felt that label was unfair and had happily defied its stereotype while his SID team was unable to accept Starfleet contracts because of him.

The team had rallied behind him and followed him as he accepted purely civilian contracts. His team's reputation being what it was, the civilian contracts were nearly as hair raising as the Starfleet jobs so they never lacked for a challenge. Although, there was an inherent thrill in serving the greater good that came with Starfleet missions so the team was grateful to get back on track when the Admiralty decided to clear Macen for duty.

There had been three back to back assignments in the span of four months. The last two months had dried up again and the team and crew of the _Obsidian_ were once again getting by on short term civilian jobs. That had all changed with this request from Starfleet and Macen knew that no other SID team was as uniquely motivated to complete this task. Johnson, McKinley, and the crew of the _Intrepid_ were extended family to the SID team. They'd seen life and death together and that had forged bonds that couldn't be broken in life.

Of course some team members had stronger ties than others. Hannah Grace was engaged to Ian Delaney and Delaney was a prisoner. Grace's Kelvan/human physiological adaptations granted her greater than human powers even without her people's customary Attuners. She was an exile from her own people and in the last 18 months Grace had lost T'Kir. Delaney would be the loss she wouldn't recover from.

Danan was close to Andreja Sikorsky but it seemed the good doctor was safe for now. It had been touch and go during the attack on the _Intrepid_ and Sikorsky had been hip deep in casualties following that event. Riker was closer to Striker, for the name if for no other reason. When they'd met they were both the XO's of their respective ships and a bond was forged. Macen had noted Riker's pang of angst when he'd noted who comprised the hostages. He definitely had a vested interest in this mission.

Parva had a professional relationship with Caplan but it was Joachim Dracas who had been his friend. Daggit and Radil had never formed a tight relationship with any of the _Intrepid's_ Senior Staff but they got on with them well enough. They were close enough for the SID pair to take this mission personally.

Grace also had close friendships with Liefers and Pedrossi. Rockford was a romantic interest of Striker's although she had done nothing to encourage it. She, like Macen, was closest to Johnson and McKinley although Celeste had also struck up a friendship with Massolli. She'd observed that the good captain had more than a passing interest with his busty beauty of an Intelligence Officer. She'd teased Macen that he was also smitten with her but Macen assured Rockford that his interest was purely professional.

McMasters had contact with Caplan, and through him, Liefers. McMasters had spent two weeks with Caplan modifying the _Intrepid's_ fighter wings with performance upgrades. They were off spec but they outperformed any similar _Peregrine IV_-class fighter out there. Point in fact, Verity Jones, the CAG of the _USS Hood's _Rascal Squadron had put in a layover at _Serenity Station_ in order to facilitate upgrade packages for her space wing's _Lightning_-class fighters. Now the rivalry between the _Intrepid_ and the _Hood's_ fighter jocks went on unabated.

Forger brought Macen's thoughts back to the present, "I never said you were going off half cocked. I merely wondered how you were doing. I know your team is close to the _Intrepid's_ Senior Staff. You can't be taking this news well."

"It's always been a possibility. Bob gets handed the worst assignments that Starfleet can generate. Jim and the others do the best that they can to keep him safe but sometimes that's not enough," Macen declared.

"As I recall, that's how you met Bob Johnson," She said.

"Bob was being held by Cell 51 and we were available to extract him," Macen remembered.

"Considering what happened next, it's a good thing that you were successful. The Federation owes him and his crew a lot," Forger said with a tinge of sadness.

"Why do I get the feeling that I'm not going to like where this conversation is going?" Macen asked.

"You obviously haven't had to time to review the last few paragraphs of the contract. I'll spare you the details but it boils down to this: if you can't rescue Robert Tavar Johnson, then you are to eliminate him," Forger stated baldly.

"You have to be kidding," Macen _could_ believe it, he just chose not to.

"Orders from the President on down. Bob can't be interrogated. Everyone has their breaking point, you know that, and he has too much vital information in his head. The Orion Syndicate can't learn anything from him. It would jeopardize hundreds of operations and thousands of agents," Forger said.

"So use the bloody cortical implant in his skull and blow his head off," Macen snarled.

"We've tried. The Syndicate has found a means by which the implant in neutralized," Forger said flatly.

"I thought you were above this sort of thing," Macen eked disappointment.

"If it were Alynna or I, your orders would be the same. Even if it was Jellico," Forger saw the appreciative gleam in Macen's eyes, "But it's not Jellico so stop thinking about it."

"Too bad. It's a pleasant thought," Macen grinned.

Forger rolled her eyes, "You seriously need to curb this antagonism with Jellico. He's the Alpha Quadrant Theater Commander. That puts him under the C-in-C, the SecDef, and the President. That's it."

"Does Gant Delane approve of this plan?" Macen inquired.

"_President_ Delane approves of any measures that insure Federation security and keep Felkor III a complacent protectorate," Forger relayed.

"No one said anything about keeping Felkor in the fold," Macen pointed out.

"That's the whole point of why Bob was there," Forger spoke as if to an unruly child.

"Then why is the President endorsing murder?" Macen wanted to know.

"The President is not endorsing murder," Forger hissed, "He's employing a strategic option."

"That doesn't sound like the Gant that I knew," Macen opined.

"The Gant Delane that you knew didn't win re-election by 51% of the vote. It wouldn't take much for the Federation Council to impeach him. He's walking a tightrope. He can't afford to be seen as weak or waffling on this issue even if it's for moral principles," Forger stated.

"Seems like morality would be the exact reason to waffle," Macen declared.

"Brin!" Forger snapped, "Can you or can you not fulfill this contract?"

Macen thought about it. He truly mulled it over and wrestled with it. Finally he spoke.

"I'll do it. If Bob is to be executed, it should be by a friend," he decided.

"With luck, you'll be able to pull him out and all of this will be academic," Forger offered his first option as a ray of hope.

"That _is _my preference." Macen dryly remarked.

Despite his nonchalant manner, Forger knew Macen would bend space-time if he thought it would save his friend. Moving on, she said, "Of course there are the political ramifications."

"You mentioned that," Macen said irritably.

"This is important, Brin," Forger scolded him, "Bob travelled to Felkor in order to insure that Conciliator Blek stayed in power. Blek is the initiator and maintainer of the treaty between the Federation and Felkor. His heir apparent wants nothing to do with us."

"But Blek is using the hostages as leverage to renegotiate his world's relationship with the Federation _and _he's willing to harbor business dealings with the Orion Syndicate. Does that about sum it up?" Macen curtly inquired.

Forger sighed, "That it does. Look, the Federation is willing to overlook the Syndicate's being there while we groom the planet for admission into the UFP. They provide a wedge in between Tholian and Gorn space. The Tholians are actively hostile towards us and the Gorn are a bloody nuisance. To add to the conundrum, they border the Ekosians and Zeons. While we're actively courting the twin worlds, we don't have a lockdown on them yet and they're playing arms dealer to the region."

"So, what am I supposed to do with the Ekosians? We're a limited engagement operation," Macen reminded his employer.

"The _Intrepid_ will handle the Ekosians. Everything else will be addressed by the Federation Diplomatic Corps," Forger announced.

"Fates take us all," Macen grumbled.

Forger ignored him as she continued, "_However_, seeing as how the Ekosian government and Space Command hold you in such high esteem, it has been suggested that you record a message for them during your initial debriefing of the _Intrepid_ crew."

"Right," Macen sardonically replied.

"I'll let you get back to it. You have a lot of planning to do. Forger out," his screen reverted back to an image of the corporate logo.

Riker stepped in, "It got quiet so I thought I'd check on where we're at."

"Adrift on the Great Material River without a paddle," Macen grumbled.

"What?" Riker was baffled by the reference.

"Ask Quark about it on our next layover at _DS9_," Macen suggested.

"Okay," Riker said skeptically, "You look grim. The kind of grim I haven't seen since we were preparing to meet Sindis for the first time."

"Grab whatever you want to drink. You'll need it to hear what our marching orders are," Macen warned.

Riker replicated a sports drink and straddled the chair he'd vacated earlier. Macen eyed the tropical punch flavored enzyme laden potion. Riker noted his eyeballing the drink.

"Lees put me on a diet. Less food and more calories from 'healthy' substitutes. Basically this stuff is sugar water but it makes her feel better so what can I do?" Riker explained.

"You can happily comply and keep the peace," Macen sagely ordered.

"That's what I thought too," Riker chuckled, "Now what's the bad news?"

Macen told him and Riker swore, "Next time you talk to Admiral Forger be sure to give her a token of our appreciation."

"And what would that be?" Macen asked with some amusement.

"You could pull down your pants and BA her," Riker suggested.

"Isn't that a little juvenile?" Macen mused.

"That's the beauty of it. She'll never see it coming," Riker enthused.

"Oh trust me, she'll _never_ see that coming," Macen shared.

"At least tell me we have the beginnings of a plan?" Riker wished.

Macen shook his head, "Nope. There are too many variables. We know that Johnson and crew are being held but we don't know where or by what forces. There's also the matter of Ensign Auray."

"Who's that?" Riker wanted to know.

"A Starfleet shuttle pilot. Felkor's atmosphere is highly ionized and that prevents transporter from operating in it. Local transporter traffic, below the aptly named ionosphere, is unaffected but you have to be inside a specific zone before you can beam down," Macen described the situation.

"But what about the pilot? What's going on with him?" Riker inquired.

"It's a _her_ actually. Auray is an Andorian _zhen_ and she's a recent transfer to the _Intrepid's_ crew," Macen detailed the facts, "Auray's second billet is as a reserve fighter jock. So when she saw the armed Felkorians coming for her, she hopped aboard her Type-6 shuttle and headed for deep space while blaring away on the horn."

"So what happened to her?" Riker was entranced.

"No one knows. Her shuttle was shot down and the Felkorians presumably reached it. However, they aren't claiming her as a hostage," Macen let Riker down gently.

"So she may be dead." Riker angrily suggested.

"It's a very real possibility. As things stand, she's MIA until we can get the Felkorians to fess up or she lights up her emergency beacon," Macen proclaimed.

Riker was discomfited by this and it got worse when Macen added, "She's not part of our mission package."

Riker shot him an evil glare and Macen held up his hands, "Don't shoot the messenger. Personally, I think it should be an objective and since I'm the Mission Commander in the field, Amanda can go hang her prerogatives."

Riker was mollified…_for now_, "So we don't have a plan?"

"Until we get more info from the crew of the _Intrepid_ to fill in the glaring holes these intel reports sport I can't even begin to assess local conditions. Of course our reconnaissance of the planet will tell us the most," Macen asserted.

"And how are we going to do that?" Riker wondered.

"The Felkorians are keeping Starfleet at arm's length. As I so desperately have to remind everyone, _we're_ not Starfleet. Our ship bears a civilian registry and we are agents for hire. That ought to play towards their sensibilities," Macen offered.

Riker had a look of dawning appreciation, "It's so simple it could actually work."

"KISS often does," Macen quoted the acronym for Keep It Simple, Starfleet.

"Well, I have the recall underway. Bryce is ready to kill you for requesting the quarterlies and a ship wide deployment at the same time," Riker chuckled.

"I'll take my chances as I cross the threshold," Macen assured him.

Riker rose and took his drink with him, "I'd best get aboard and manage the chaos."

"It's not that bad," Macen defended the crew.

"You never thought so because you had me there guiding everything. Shannon takes great, evil delight in watching me manage crises so she's no help," Riker complained.

"You betcha." Shannon Forger said from behind Riker's hulking frame.

"Shannon," Riker growled.

"So this for real? The deployment I mean. I thought we were taking a week off." Forger whined.

"Stow it," Riker commanded, "Put on your game face and assure everyone you meet that we really do need to deploy in four hours."

Forger snapped off a sloppy salute, "Aye, aye Captain, sir."

"Just scurry forth and spread rumors and innuendo." Riker sighed.

"Now _that_ I can do." Forger turned on her heel and went forth to spread her version of the truth.

Riker followed in her wake leaving Macen all alone with the padds. Pulling a messenger bag out of the filing cabinet, he scooped all of the data slates and put them into the bag. He then headed for his quarters. Bryce snarled at him as he passed.

* * *

Macen packed a duffel bag with some clothes he thought might prove useful. The main door opened and closed. Rockford sauntered in with a smile and eyes full of mischief.

"_What_ are _you_ doing in my quarters?" she demanded in an imperious voice.

"These just happen to be my quarters as well," Macen offered.

"Yours _too_?" she repeated in a disbelieving tone, "I don't think so. These are _my_ quarters, given to me by my wise and generous boyfriend."

Macen smirked, "Then where is he?"

"Alas, he left me stranded. Now I have to replace him. Are you interested? I have an opening for love slave," Rockford grinned like the proverbial Cheshire.

"Would there be auditions?" Macen asked with a bemused look.

Rockford grew excited and she pointed at him, "_Exactly_!"

"You do realize we're on a schedule?" he inquired.

She waved the thought aside, "What're they gonna do? Leave without us?"

Macen threw the duffel off of the bed and pulled Rockford close. Their faces drew close but he lingered just a hair's breadth away for a moment. She could feel his breath on her lips and she groaned. He drove forward and their lips made contact and their tongues danced. Pulling away, he looked awfully satisfied. She did too.

"I might let you stay for awhile after all." She proposed.

"Oh no. I have to at least show you my résumé so you can decide if I'm worthy of an audition," Macen decided.

A victorious smile spread across Rockford's features, "Best thing I've heard all day."


	4. Chapter 4

9 Salvation

The _Obsidian_ made her departure and sailed through subspace at warp 6 for three days. The moderate cruising speed kept the engines from too much strain but Parva stepped up preventative maintenance all the same. The SID team reviewed all the known facts regarding the case in a briefing on the first day and then spent the next two days in combat training and rescue drills in the holographic fields of the cargo bays. Tessa stopped by and cheered the team on after each drill concluded. Daggit would dissect their performance and then run a different scenario to see what they had digested and taken to heart.

By the time they arrived in Felkorian space, the team was pretty beat up. Daggit called a cessation of training so they could respond to an emergency if one presented itself to the ship. No sooner had Macen showered and dressed then Riker requested his talents as staff intelligence officer.

Macen went to the Infosys Center and manned his desk. The sensor readings and the visuals were displayed on his screens. Rockford and Grace sat back at their desks and took in the view. What appeared before them were five large transport/freighters and two smaller craft. The smaller craft were definitely Starfleet by design but boasted a dish-like primary deflector and round warp nacelles. Riker asked what they were.

"They're _Archer_-class analogues. They're primarily designed as scoutships but they do carry 4 photons in the fore magazines and 2 aft. The crew complement is rated at 14 persons. Starfleet relied heavily on this design in the 2260's. It went out of vogue when the _Constitution_- and _Miranda_-class refits dominated the service," Macen explained.

"If they're over a century old, how did they end up here?" Riker wondered.

"The Iotian Federation Shipyards have been producing them in bulk and sales of been astronomical," Macen reported.

"Well, since we're approaching the Ekosian border, I'd say the Ekosian Space Command is a customer." Riker surmised.

"More to the point, they're in a stand-off with the _Intrepid_." Macen pointed out.

"I'll get back to you. Keep monitoring the situation and keep me advised." Riker instructed.

"Aye, Captain." Macen grinned.

"Jaycee, go lights out. I don't want the Ekosians to know we're here until we're on top of them." Riker ordered.

"Tom, three more ships are dropping out of warp on the Ekosian side of the border." Danan reported from Science.

The ships were a _Constitution_-class analogue and two _Mercury_-class analogue frigates. Riker requested that all efforts be put towards signal intercepts. He wanted to know what was said between the Ekosians and the _Intrepid_.

The image of Jorra Kend filled half the screen and then that of James McKinley filled the other half. McKinley was not amused, "Marshall Kend, why are you attempting to force your way through a legal blockade?"

"I do not recognize your authority here, Captain. Felkor is not a member of the Federation and has requested and paid for the items we are delivering." The statuesque, platinum haired Nordic looking beauty declared.

"Felkor is a Federation protectorate and is an ally that has granted Starfleet jurisdictional rights." McKinley countered.

"Then you should be escorting this shipment rather than trying to hinder it." Kend demanded, "And if you hadn't noticed, we outnumber you and we _are_ going to make delivery, whether by your grace or through you, it makes no difference."

McKinley called over his shoulder, "Liefers, roll fighters."

The _Intrepid _began launching fighters and within five minutes time had all 24 _Peregrine IV_-class fighters flying in formation and preparing for attack. McKinley looked smug.

"What do you say now?" he asked.

"Stand down, Captain. I _will_ use force." Kend declared.

* * *

At this point, Macen had Riker patch him into the communications scramble. The Ekosians went on high alert as another Federation starship suddenly appeared. Kend frowned and accepted the communications request. She was surprised to find that it was Macen.

"Captain, I know we wished to see one another again but honestly, I didn't expect it to happen," She confessed.

"Marshall Kend, there are forces at play here you don't know about yet. Captain McKinley is well within his rights to intercept you and I'll tell you why," Macen promised.

"I wish someone would." Kend complained.

"The government on Felkor is holding Starfleet officers hostage. Those officers belong to the _Intrepid_. Your arms delivery will supply those that are illegally holding Federation citizens against their will," Macen described the situation.

"And your part in this?" Kend asked.

"To affect the rescue of the hostages," Macen answered, "Captain McKinley is charged with border security and the prevention of aid reaching the kidnappers."

"What do you wish of me?" Kend inquired.

"Hold delivery until _after_ I extract all Starfleet personnel," Macen said simply.

"How long do you expect that to take?" Kend wondered.

"Three days. If I haven't completed my mission by then, you make delivery regardless of my status," Macen offered.

"I agree in principle but I need to consult with Chancellor Balsat." Kend revealed.

"Do what you need to do. So will we," Macen promised.

Kend cut the connection. McKinley commed Riker.

"Good to see you, Captain Riker," he said.

"Good to see you too. We came as soon as we got word," Riker assured him.

"Admiral Jellico said help was on the way. He just didn't say who it was going to be. Personally, I think we're all a little relieved that it's you," McKinley admitted, "The only question now is, if Brin and the SID are deploying to Felkor's surface, what is the _Obsidian_ going to be doing in the interim?"

"Well, since they're utilizing our runabout, that leaves me free to support you," Riker said with a smile.

McKinley finally broke into a relaxed grin, "Now _that_ is really good news. I don't trust the Ekosians further than I can bounce them."

"I can see your point," Riker agreed based upon past experience.

"Can you patch me in with Brin? I need the team to beam over here so we can debrief them on what's been happening since they captured the diplomatic team," McKinley requested.

"Certainly," Riker consented, "Jaycee?"

* * *

Macen brought along Rockford, Grace, Radil, Daggit, and McMasters. Danan came as well but she had personal business with Sikorsky. The others were met by McKinley's yeoman, who brought them to the staff briefing room. There McKinley and Massolli awaited them.

Massolli rushed forward and hugged Macen. He smiled, "Jennifer, you've changed your hair."

She ran a hand through her raven tresses and struck a seductive pose, "Do you like it?"

"It was perfect before. It's perfect now. You just don't have any flaws," he replied.

"I _knew_ I liked you." She said as she took her seat beside McKinley. McKinley was playing it cool but Macen could sense he was slightly out of joint. Perhaps it was time to advise the Captain to come to grips with his latent attraction or move on?

The SID team grabbed seats. Macen sat next to McKinley, opposite of Massolli. Rockford sat beside him. Massolli was still taking a guilty pleasure in Macen's compliment. Rockford rested her left hand on Macen's forearm. He reached over with his left and squeezed it. Massolli settled down and became all business. Having established her territorial claim, Rockford settled in to listen what Starfleet had for them.

"We don't have any hard evidence as to where they're holding Admiral Johnson and the others but we have managed signal intercepts that suggest where they _might_ be," McKinley began, "Commander, will you do the honors? It _is_ your project after all."

Massolli smiled and activated the screens in the table. She manipulated data at her terminal and it changed the displays elsewhere. She pulled up several voice files that she played. They were Felkorians referring to Johnson. It suggested he was sequestered at a facility known as "Mount Fildkirk".

"There are no mountains named Fildkirk on Felkor, not even accounting for alien dialects. It's my supposition that this is an honorific applied to an artificial construction," Massolli revealed, "Here are the four leading candidates for being this installation."

The data terminals displayed four fortresses. Each more foreboding than the last. Cracking one, or all, of them could very well prove impossible.

"How have managed to receive signal intercepts out here?" Macen wondered.

"We have the new DR-97's. They're stealth probe that can be launched or tractored into orbit. It was Jennifer's idea that we place one in orbit when we launched the shuttle the first time. It grants us remote listening abilities," McKinley explained.

Massolli practically preened at being acknowledged. Macen asked if the SID team could have access so they could listen in as well during the mission. He brought up a point that the _Intrepid_ crew seemed to be avoiding.

"What about Ensign Auray?" he asked.

McKinley shifted uncomfortably, "She hasn't lit up her beacon. She's MIA and will remain so until she makes contact."

"That's a crock and you know it," Macen accused, "She's probably running for her life and can't activate the beacon without bringing the planet down upon her."

"You're probably right but I have orders that state that she's expendable so _unless_ she confirms that she's alive, she will remain an MIA," McKinley replied.

Macen fell silent but everyone knew it wasn't over. McKinley himself was rooting for Macen on this one. She needed to be found and found soon before the Felkorians got a hold of her. The _zhen_ may have been one of the four Andorian sexes but she was close enough to a typical dual sex humanoid to be sorely used. McKinley wouldn't wish that on any of his crew.

They discussed the scant details of the SID plan and how they would use the _Corsair_ to fly to Felkor and land. From there they would use Rockford and Radil's contacts to search for leads. Macen had only discussed one facet of his plan with Rockford. He intended to make contact with the Orion Syndicate and barter for the diplomatic team's lives. Of course that was all predicated on them _finding_ the Syndicate.

Right now the Orion Syndicate was fighting for its very life. The dons had rejected the ascension of Enrick Gaston to the godfather's throne. Now, the Syndicate and the Meirkus Conglomeration, which Gaston _did_ lead, were competing where they had once been allies. To complicate things worse, no Orion had been deemed worthy to lead the Syndicate.

The power behind the throne, a waif named Leera, hadn't found a suitable male proxy. She'd killed Robhurt B'nner when he outlived his usefulness. She'd been promised a continuation of her reign under Sindis. She soon discovered that the Iridian had no intentions of making good on that promise. Her pheromones and her seductive charms were wasted on the monastic overlord.

Leera controlled the Syndicate but it was fragile exercise of power. She had to find a suitable patsy soon or the dons would get rebellious and think they actually controlled the empires their female mistresses had carefully built.

McKinley's comm badge chirped and he answered. It was the bridge wanting to route a comm message to him. Kend had received word from home and she wanted to discuss her orders.

Her image appeared in all of the data terminals but she only received McKinley's image, "Very well, Captain. Captain Macen played his hand very well. We are to hold for 3 days and 3 days only."

"May I remind you that if you break your word, you will be engaging a Federation starship in an act of aggression that will be tantamount to an act of war?" McKinley posed the question.

"And if this does occur?" she defiantly asked.

"Your sector is literally surrounded by the United Federation of Planets. We can close off your territory and choke off your fledgling trade routes. It's gets awfully lonely in the cold of space." McKinley warned.

"I will advise the Chancellor of your warning. Kend out." The screen reverted back to an image of the UFP seal.

"If there's no other business we'll get back to the _Obsidian_ and make way for Felkor." Macen said.

"Do I even have to wish you luck or tell you our hopes go with you?" McKinley asked.

"Not really." Macen smiled.

* * *

The team gathered their specialized equipment and headed for the shuttle bay. Radil was lugging her portable phaser cannon and McMasters had several cases draped across his body and held in his hands. Everyone else was simply carrying their sidearms. Daggit would rely upon the armory located within the _Corsair_.

Radil and Grace wore jumpsuits while Daggit wore black and grey FDU's. McMasters wore coveralls and a vest containing various tools. Rockford wore black pants, combat boots, a colored top and a vintage brown bomber jacket. The jacket was technically Macen's; having been given to him by Elias Vaughn, but Rockford liked to borrow it. Macen had his modern era flight jacket along with the gray Captain's alternative shirt that had gone out of Starfleet vogue in 2373.

Grace took the CONN station, as was only fitting with her status as Flight Operations Specialist. She'd been the former Chief CONN Officer of the _Obsidian_ until she'd had exchanged disparaging words with Riker. Grace had always wanted more field experience so rather than allow her to constantly undercut Riker's authority as captain of the ship; Macen brought her fully into the fold of the SID team. The yearlong gap in Starfleet contracts had given her the time to fully assimilate into the field unit and now she functioned as well as could be expected. She was still more of a pilot than a commando or an investigator but she was learning the ropes.

Eric McMasters sat at the Engineering station behind CONN. He'd served as the engineering specialist for the Maquis before being sent to a Federation penal colony at the end of that conflict. Upon his release, he created a "hot-rodder's" shipyard at Dulces II. Becoming a celebrity amongst an elite crowd, McMasters soon found himself bored to tears and readily jumped at Macen's offer to join the SID. Like Grace, the yearlong gap had granted him the time to accommodate himself into the framework of the team. His one lingering deficit was that he had fantasized about a reunion with Lisea Danan for fifteen years after their two week stand and he found her marriage to be a distraction not a deterrent to his affections.

Rab Daggit sat at the nominal Science station only it had been rerouted into being a Tactical station. He'd left the team due to the injuries sustained by his Orion wife, Parva. Her brain damage had left her partially crippled and scatter brained. Now, however, with the use of braces and her relearning her arcane skills as an engineer, she'd been able to reclaim her position as the _Obsidian's _Chief Engineer. Daggit had followed her aboard and rather than sit idly by, he'd rejoined the SID team as their Strategic Ops Specialist.

As an Angosian, Daggit was perfectly suited for combat. Under fire, he became distant and cold, a ruthless killing machine. Parva referred to him as "the Terminator" in a reference to an ancient Terran movie. Whatever the label applied, one thing was known to all of his teammates, they didn't want to fight him.

The possible exception to that rule was Celeste Rockford. Born Annika Ryst, Rockford was also an Angosian Augment. However, she was an Augment Infiltrator. Literally transforming into different aliases, she compartmentalized whole personalities. She was the only person in living memory that had beaten Daggit in hand to hand combat.

The Rockford persona was a Federation licensed private investigator and had a thriving detective agency before Macen recruited her and absorbed her entity into Outbound Ventures. Rockford herself had joined because she sought a cause worth living for and she found it in Macen's dreams of a better tomorrow. What she hadn't counted on was falling for him along the way.

Of course, T'Kir had been alive when these feelings first dawned within her and Macen had been slavishly devoted to T'Kir. T'Kir's death changed all of that. Considered a "vulture" by some, Rockford's nascent feelings had blossomed as she helped him through his grief. She never asked for anything nor did she make the first move. Macen had come to realize that he reciprocated her feelings all on his own.

Macen sat at the OPS station. It was primarily configured to run sensor scans and access the Federation library network. He'd come a long way in the last 18 months. T'Kir's death had devastated him but Rockford's strong steady support and intimate understanding of grief pulled him through it. He still missed T'Kir but the edge was taken off by the fact that he was the holder of her katra, the living essence of a Vulcan's mind and spirit. He had a constant awareness of her presence. It comforted him but he was beginning to realize that it was less than fair to Rockford for him to keep holding it.

The whole idea for him to indefinitely hold it was T'Kir's mad plan to join Macen in the El-Aurian "afterlife". The El-Aurian migration intro a state of energy upon physical death was well known to the race. Unfortunately, no one who had passed on had ever sent a message back so no one knew exactly what happened. T'Kir's plan was predicated upon prior experience with the migration but even that experience had been aberrant because they ended up in the Nexus instead of passing on.

Radil was the final member of the team and she'd joined Rockford in the runabout's passenger compartment. She'd come a long way in the last ten years. A former Bajoran Resistance fighter turned mercenary turned secret agent and security chief; she'd lived a dozen lifetimes worth in those years. Having lost her true love when Abby Collins died, she found comfort in the arms of Kort, who rekindled their former passion and she'd eventually married him.

Now they all sat back as Grace launched the runabout out of the shuttle bay and headed for Felkor III. It was a two hour trip and their reception would be anyone's guess. In other words, it was a typical mission.


	5. Chapter 5

8 Salvation

"Mount Fildkirk" was indeed an installation. Once designed as a royal redoubt, it served to house extremely valuable prisoners in addition to protecting the upper echelons of Felkorian society during a crisis. The base of the fortress was a square paddock three stories high. This served as the entrance into the structure and as a blockhouse for prisoners and troops.

A geometric dome sat atop the paddock. An outrigger building was a square block that stood five stories tall. The dome itself stretched twenty stories into the sky. The dome was festooned with disruptor banks and shield emitters. Rotary photon torpedo emplacements also served to guard the elite. The launchers were handicapped in being unable to fire at the structure itself.

A limo was parked in front of the facility and Felkorian troops were guarding it while its passengers were touring the citadel. The driver was amused by this attention and contentedly sat back and waited for his principals.

Inside, Blek was greeting the dignitaries from the Orion Syndicate. One, who was known to him, was a Caitian. This was Kreow, the sector boss. The lanky Andorian _chan_ was a stranger.

Although Blek was beholden to Kreow, it still galled him on an instinctual level to allow to remain on the planet. Felkorians were quite pugnacious, literally, having been evolved from canine ancestors. The Andorian seemed to pick up on this and it amused him greatly.

"I don't believe we've met," Blek declared.

"No, we haven't," the Andorian said amicably, "I am Shar. I oversee the Syndicate's interests in the Iotian, Tholian, Gorn, and Ekosian territories. You fall in that vacuum so I oversee you as well."

Blek bristled, "I work _with_ the Syndicate, not _for_ the Syndicate and that lasts only as long as latinum flows my way."

"Your latinum will flow provided you insure our success on this world," Shar countered.

Blek looked nonplussed, finally he blustered, "I have your prisoners. I expect the bounties are still valid?"

"The bounties will be paid upon delivery," Shar explained.

"I can deliver now. They're here in this facility," Blek said excitedly.

"Why don't you hold on to them for a while longer?" Shar urged, "I'll take delivery when I love this _lovely_ planet."

"But, I…" Blek began to protest.

"I assure you. The Syndicate is good for it," Shar gave him his "salesman" smile, "In the meantime, show me where they are."

They navigated the warrens of the blockhouse until they came to a row of metal doors, made of solid duranium. Blek explained that behind the solid doors a force field was erected. They were designed to hold even a species as robust as a Brikar or a Gorn.

"How do you monitor them?" Shar asked.

"There are full spectrum sensors mounted in the ceilings of each cell," Blek described, "They have food replicators that dispense a ration bar twice a day. They can also receive as much water as they want."

"I take it it's formulated to local standards?" Shar inquired.

"Of course. Only the best for our prisoners," Blek happily admitted.

Shar fought the urge to grimace. Felkor III's water was brackish at best. It had a mineral element that made the water smell and taste like sulfur oxide. One could only put up with the smell and taste of rotten eggs for so long if they were from another world.

"I see they are good hands. I trust you to maintain their comfort until I am ready to receive them," Shar cornered the politician.

"I…" Blek was interrupted by an underling approaching.

"Chief Conciliator, the defense grid has picked up an approaching Federation runabout." The minion reported.

"I warned the _Intrepid _against trying to return," Blek fumed.

"The _Intrepid_ doesn't count runabouts amongst its small craft complement," Shar derailed Blek's anger, "Have you swiped the craft's ID transponder?"

"It registers as the NS 40671_ SS Corsair_," The aide reported, "The registration traces back to a corporation named Outbound Ventures in the Federation database."

Shar smiled, "Brin Macen. Excellent."

"I know of this Macen. His bounty makes Johnson's pale in comparison. I shall capture him for you." Blek offered.

"You'll do nothing of the sort. I want Macen unmolested. Whatever pretext that he's using to be here will go unchallenged. Do I make myself clear?" Shar demanded.

"But I…" Blek faltered.

"Non-compliance with this directive will result in forfeiture of _all_ your bounties," Shar warned.

Blek swallowed his pride, "It will be as you say."

"I'll be going now but I will stay abreast of Macen's situation. Make sure he goes unchallenged," Shar commanded.

Blek didn't trust himself to speak as the Andorian and the Caitian departed.

* * *

"Can I raise shields _now_?" Daggit asked again.

"We're not hostile so let's not give them a reason to think we are." Macen retorted, "The sensors read clear. They swiped our ID and tried to get an interior scan but no targeting sensors are tracking us and no weapons have gone hot."

Daggit simmered down, having been told what his own board revealed. It just wasn't natural to fly amongst so many potentially hostile cruisers and not respond somehow. It seemed as though Felkor had recalled its entire "fleet". Truth be told, it wasn't much bigger or more effective than the Bajoran Militia's force.

They passed through the cluster of ships and proceeded towards the planet's atmosphere. Traffic Control commed them at that point and Grace got permission to land and landing coordinates. Then she plunged the ship into the charged ionosphere. Electrical discharges began to dance across the ship. Arcs of electricity could be seen out the front viewports. Turbulence began to buck the craft around and a "Whoa!" could be heard from Radil in the back.

Grace grinned as she brought the craft under heel. They plunged below the ionic disturbances and it became smooth sailing. She followed the nav beacon she'd been assigned to and crossed the better part of a continent before they were instructed to slow and descend. Adhering to the instructions she received, Grace brought the runabout down with a little flourish at the end to make the landing her own.

"Atmosphere checks out." Grace announced with a grin.

"Thanks Hannah. That's what all the travel brochures say as well." McMasters lipped off.

She blew him a raspberry and Macen took the opportunity to deliver bad news, "I'm glad you two are getting along so well because you're both staying with the ship while we proceed."

"That's not fair!" came from Grace while McMasters came up with, "Now wait just a damn minute!"

Macen held up his hands to quiet them down, "We may need a rapid extraction and that won't happen if we're _all_ on the ground."

They both gave him sullen looks and he sighed, "It just makes sense."

McMasters was the first to relent, "I hate to admit it but he's right."

"But Ian needs me." Grace tried one last gambit.

"And you'll be helping him by staying _with_ the ship." Macen assured her.

"Fine," she pouted.

"Is that all settled?" Rockford asked with a grin near the hatch.

"I think only for now." Macen said.

"Damn skippy." Grace quipped.

* * *

Radil had grabbed a phaser rifle out of the armory and opened the hatch. She frowned, "Head's up people. We have a welcoming committee."

Daggit moved past her and went and got his own rifle. Macen exited first, followed by Rockford. Radil stayed put at first, discreetly covering her employer. Daggit relieved her and she exited as well. McMasters took up Daggit's post with his phaser pistol in his hand. The investigative team met the local constabulary near their flyers.

"Identity chit and licenses to carry weapons." The Chief Inspector demanded with an outstretched hand.

Macen pulled a padd out of his utility belt. Several officers put their hands on their holstered weapons while he did so. The Chief began surveying the information displayed.

"You'll find that the treaty between our governments requires you to recognize my licenses. That means my Level 9 clearance allows me to carry weaponry. It also suggests that I receive support from local law enforcement but that's entirely on a voluntary basis," Macen commented.

The Chief growled. It was a vestige of his ancestry, "I'll have to run this by the legal experts back at the station."

"Feel free." Macen cheerfully agreed.

The Inspector returned to a flyer and entered it, presumably to contact the aforementioned experts. Macen leaned into Rockford, who'd been standing next to him.

"What's your read on this?" he asked in a hushed voice. It was probably futile given the Felkorians' acute hearing but he had to at least try.

"They're running through the standard motions but they also know we're important personages of note. I've been to Felkor before as Annika Ryst and I cleared the initial official meet `n greet within a few minutes. They never checked my credentials. They just took my word for it," she relayed.

"That matches my impression so far," Macen admitted, "Starfleet's cultural studies show the Felkorians are slow to warm to strangers but they're given ready access to society."

"I can attest to that. Last time Annika was here, she had a dozen drop troops and they were given run of the town. Even the constables tended to look the other way as long as damages were paid for," Rockford confided, "I wonder what's different now?"

"We showed up in a Federation runabout, in a model Starfleet uses, and they have to be wondering if we're undercover Starfleet agents," Macen theorized, "And since they've effectively declared war on Starfleet they have to be wondering how to respond to us if we _are_ Starfleet."

"Makes sense," Rockford admitted.

"The trick will be, how will they respond to our ostensible mission to recover Auray?" Macen wondered.

"Heads up, Boss. Our inspector is marching this way." She warned.

Macen smiled at her terminology. "Boss" had always been her playful address of respect for him. That remained the same despite their romantic interests.

"You've interpreted our law correctly." The Inspector said as he handed the padd back to Macen, "Hopefully that will stay true throughout your stay."

"We'll do our best." Macen assured him.

"I'm required to ask what the purpose of your visit is." The Chief stated.

"We're here to find Ensign Auray. Her shuttle was shot down in near orbit by your defense forces and she was never recovered. Her family wants her, whether dead or alive," Macen told most of the truth.

"Her name is Auray?" the Chief asked and Macen nodded. The peace officer frowned, "Her whereabouts are of interest to us as well."

"Could you give us the coordinates of the wreck? We can begin our investigation there," Macen requested.

"I can input it into your padd." The Chief offered.

Instead, Macen handed over his tricorder. The Felkorian had never dealt with the Bajoran design before and it took several seconds for him to familiarize himself with the layout. Once he had he inputted the coordinates from memory. That indicated two things: that the Chief Inspector was involved with the investigation into Auray's disappearance and the shuttle had crashed nearby because it was still in local jurisdiction.

The Inspector handed over the tricorder, "The crash is nearby but no trace of the pilot's whereabouts is revealed in the wreckage."

"So, she survived the crash?" Macen inquired.

"_She_ left the site, unless of course, scavengers carried the body away. It is located in the slums of Verid and the inhabitants are savage," the Inspector warned.

Verid was the city they'd landed in. It was the largest metropolis and the seat of the planetary government. It was also obvious by the constable's reaction to the news that the Starfleet pilot was female that he hadn't known that before. Auray had obviously gone to ground or had been secreted away.

"Could you provide us transport to the site?" Macen wondered.

"There are rental flyers available from several agencies at this spaceport. I suggest you aid the local economy and hire one," the Inspector gruffly replied.

"All right. We'll do that," Macen conceded.

"Stay out of trouble," the constable ordered, "We'll be watching."

* * *

The peace officers all loaded up in their flyers and lifted off. Macen gathered the team and transmitted the coordinates into each of their tricorders' databases. Then he scanned the area and pointed east, "There seem to be aircraft in this direction."

They hoofed it on foot and came to an area that advertised three competing rental agencies yet there was only one lot to draw vehicles from. Rockford confirmed that the separate agencies charged different rates but they pooled their vehicular resources. Prospective clients were shuttled around to the "appropriate" agency depending upon how high they were estimated to be able to afford.

"It's like Three Card Monty." She explained.

"Which agency is the cheapest?" Macen asked.

She gave him an incredulous look, "Boss, these are intergalactic corporate franchises. They advertise across the quadrant."

"So that means you should know which one is cheaper," Macen asserted.

"I do. The question is, why don't you?" Rockford pointedly inquired.

"I don't pay much attention to popular media and popular media is where most advertising is embedded," Macen retorted.

""Even the Federation News Service and the Interstellar News Corporation have advertising," she pointed out.

"Yeah, but it's easy to ignore," Macen rebutted her.

She smirked, "So you're willfully ignorant."

"Yes," Macen agreed.

Now Rockford looked like she'd swallowed the canary, "It's nice to see that you can admit that you're ignorant."

"What?" Macen exclaimed.

"Don't worry, Boss. We all love you anyway," she got on tiptoes and kissed his cheek.

"I was tricked," he grumbled.

"You were blissfully led down the path and they say ignorance is bliss, so I've proven my point once again," Rockford was relishing this victory.

Macen pondered this turn of events. T'Kir had been quick witted too but she'd been overt. Rockford was subtle. Repartee with her was a fencing match and she scored direct hits more often than not. He appreciated the game because it was friendly. It could be twisted into something destructive but as long as it stayed playful he'd enjoy every moment of their sparring.

"Are we going in or are you just going to sit there and gather your thoughts?" Rockford grinned. She knew she had him once again.

"Let's go." Macen smiled back.

Rockford led them to the agency whose reputation was built on high end budget vehicles. Macen began the negotiation. First he had them access the Subspace Comms Network and query the Bank of Bolia. Looking up Outbound Ventures accounts, they searched the _Obsidian's_ operating account. Seeing a credit limit worth more than their franchise was worth, the sales agent fell all over himself to accommodate Macen.

"Wouldn't you like to go to our sister agency? They have higher end vehicles worthy of someone of your financial stature," he said.

"So they can rent me the same vehicle you would but at a higher rate?" Macen sarcastically asked, "I don't think so."

The agent looked caught and he was, "I see you are a discriminating client. We have three classes of flyers. I'll give you one of our premium models at the…"

"Budget price," Macen suggested.

"Yes, the budget rate." The agent conceded. He then offered several insurance options. Macen thumb printed a contract that obligated Outbound Ventures to compensate the agency for any loss or damages. There was a nonrefundable deposit of course and the agent could already smell his commission.

A maintenance tech led them to their rented vehicle. They'd been given a temporary pass code. The tech made certain that the lock-out system was working and then handed off the craft. Radil checked the controls and saw that they reminiscent enough to a sub-impulse raider's or a modern shuttle's so she fired up the thrusters and the antigravs. The rental lifted in the air and then, guided by the tricorders, they set off for the crash site.


	6. Chapter 6

8 Salvation

Radil followed the guide path laid out by the tricorder. It reminded Macen of when he, T'Kir, Ro, Tulley, and Harry Mudd III went in search of lost artifacts on Caldos II. That brought a moment of nostalgia. Rockford noticed the change.

"What are you thinking of?" she asked.

Macen explained what had happened and she grinned, "So, you had some actual adventures with the Maquis?"

"They were few and far between but we did manage to save civilization from the Cardassians on occasion," he said it playfully but she could tell he was also serious.

"You've never told me much about those days," she reminded him.

"You've never really brought up the Tarsus Wars," Macen aimed right back at her.

"_Annika_ fought the Tarsus Wars. I came along afterwards," Rockford's reply served to remind Macen that Annika Ryst's compartmentalized personalities served different purposes at different times and each had a unique sense of history.

"Those stories all involve T'Kir. I didn't think you'd want to be reminded of her," Macen admitted.

Rockford cuffed upside the head, "Don't _think_. I want to know your stories and share them with you. I'll tell you what I can of _our_ history and then we can compare notes. Got it?"

"Yes, ma'am," Macen sheepishly replied.

"Hey Lovebirds, you may want to check this out." Radil called from the cockpit. Daggit rode shotgun so Macen and Rockford had to crowd in the space between stations. Macen bumped her aside with his hip and she yelped. Tickling his ribs she got him to make an allowance for her petite frame.

The wreckage was fairly contained. The shuttle had been mostly intact as it made contact with the ground. Auray had the presence of mind and control of the craft to land beside the slums and not in them. The shuttle's fuselage was intact. The warp nacelles were sheared off and the rear loading ramp was blown off. It was nowhere to be seen in the debris trail so presumably it was lost earlier in the flight.

"Take us down," Macen ordered.

"Yes, O Lord and Master," Radil quipped.

* * *

Radil landed the flyer. It was a competent landing but it lacked the flair of Grace's landings. Daggit grabbed the rifles from where he'd secured them and gave Radil hers and then exited the craft. Radil followed, rifle draped across her.

Daggit and Radil formed a perimeter and studied the surrounding country. Rockford began taking scans of the wreckage. It only took her a moment to make her first find.

"Brin, there's Andorian blood in the cockpit." She reported.

He came to examine her findings, "Any sign of what injured her?"

"My guess is she was caught by a shard when the cockpit windshield shattered. There's a blood outline of a knife-like shape but the object is gone," she explained.

"Our good Chief Inspector and his team," Macen surmised.

"Safe bet," she concurred.

"Is there a trail of blood?" he asked.

"Only as far as the emergency lockers. I'd say she grabbed a med kit and used the dermal regenerator to seal the cut before she bugged out," Rockford observed.

"Any supplies missing?" Macen wondered as he stared at the open compartments.

"You've got to be kidding me, right? This wreck has been picked apart. It was probably a scavengers dream," Rockford lectured.

Macen nodded, "Point taken. Anything else of note in here?"

"I could probably record the fingerprints of a few hundred people," Rockford dryly complained.

They exited the shuttle and Macen indicated the slums that rose just a few hundred meters away, "Do you think she'd go there or into the woods?"

Rockford studied the barren field that eventually spawned a woodland, "It's almost a kilometer of open country between here and the tree line. If she was in a hurry to escape detection, and she probably was, her best bet for hiding is the urban landscape. I got the impression the cops wouldn't follow her into it."

"The inspector did refer to them as 'savages'," Macen added.

"Yeah, and he said it with fear in his voice. I'm willing to bet my professional reputation that our girl headed into the cityscape," Rockford's reputation at detection was formidable so it was no idle wager.

"Rab, Jenrya, we're headed into the urban jungle." Macen called out.

They formed up and went to the right as a concession to Macen's consulting the Currents. Daggit took the lead. Macen followed with Rockford trailing him. Radil brought up the rear. They were hyper-vigilant, ready for a firefight or ambush to break out in any moment. Macen tried to speak to a few natives that were on the street but the Felkorians invariably turned away and walked off.

* * *

Finally, after traversing eight blocks, a Felkorian approached them, "Hey Starfleet! Are you looking for your pilot?"

"We're not Starfleet," Macen established that fact right away, "But we _are_ looking for the Starfleet pilot. We can make it worth your while."

"Follow me. I'll take you to her," the Felkorian promised.

They walked for another four blocks and the entered a derelict building on the left side of the street. As their eyes adjusted to the dark they recognized that they'd entered a large open area. In the center of it was Auray tied to a chair. Her head was slumped into her chest and her uniform jacket and blouse were unzipped.

"Jenrya," Macen said.

Radil moved forward and knelt next to Auray and began inspecting her injuries. She used her tricorder to scan the Andorian. She grew angry.

"The bastards beat her. She has massive bruising on her breasts. Prophets know how many people took turns groping them," Radil angrily declared.

"I can show you how many." The Felkorian chuckled. He began yapping and let out a single howl.

"Did he just bark at us?" Macen asked Rockford.

"I think it was meant for them," she pointed out all of the Felkorians entering the space. They were surrounded.

"I've got east." Daggit announced, his rifle tucked into his shoulder.

Rockford had her pistol drawn and cradled in two hands, "I've got north."

"I'll handle west." Macen also had his phaser in a two handed grip.

"I'll take south as soon as I get her up and running." Radil promised. She applied a stimulant to Auray's system. She put away the hypospray as Auray's eyes fluttered open.

"No!" she yelled, "No more!"

Radil gripped her shoulders, "Snap out of it. We're the good guys. We're here to take you home."

"You're Bajoran," Auray realized.

"And you're Andorian," Radil smarted off, "Let's get multicultural after we get out of here."

Radil pulled out a flick knife and cut the bonds holding Auray. She got the _zhen_ to her feet but the pilot had a severe limp and had to be supported. Radil moved around her and wrapped her left arm around Auray's waist.

"Hold on to me." She instructed.

Auray threw her arm over Radil's shoulders. Radil had her rifle unencumbered but she also had a phaser strapped to each leg, "Grab a phaser. Maybe you'll get some payback before this is over."

Auray was hesitant at first but then with a look of grim determination, she pulled a phaser pistol free from Radil's left leg.

"Good girl," Radil praised her, "Now start walking towards the exit."

The lead Felkorian growled, "You're not going anywhere, Fed. We want a ransom and I figure whatever you were going to offer pales in comparison to what they'd offer for the lot of you."

"Walk down this path and all you'll get is an early grave. I'm willing to pay for her freedom. Take the latinum while you can," Macen offered.

"I don't think so," the Felkorian laughed. Macen shot him. The pack moved forward but the SID team punctuated that movement with phaser bursts. The pack halted.

"Keep this up and it gets very real," Macen thumbed up the power to his phaser. The others followed suit.

"You got nowhere to go, Fed. We'll give you ten _arfets_ to surrender." A deputy counter offered.

Calculating that the time equaled fifteen minutes, Macen tapped the comm badge on his belt, "Macen to Grace."

Grace's voice filled the air, "I hear you."

"Lock onto this position and get us out of here." Macen instructed.

"Do you need an extraction already? You've barely had time to piss of the locals." Grace chided him.

"Hannah, I'm not laughing," Macen replied.

"Must be bad. We'll be there in a few." She promised.

* * *

The time counted down and just as the deadline arrived, Grace's voice filled the open circuit, "We have you on sensors. We can only transport two at a time so who goes first?"

"Radil and her friend are the priority." Macen decided.

The Bajoran and Andorian dissolved in a halo of energy. The Felkorian pack surged forward. McMasters targeted Macen and Rockford next. They quickly hopped out of the transporter frame and McMasters brought up Daggit. The Angosian looked totally nonchalant.

"Damn. It was just getting interesting," he grumbled.

"Where's Auray?" Rockford inquired of McMasters.

"Jenrya took her to the medical unit." He answered.

The _Corsair_, like all _Danube_-class runabouts, was a modular design. While the cockpit and rear passenger compartment were kept stock, the center modules had been selected for general mission use. One was a single occupancy brig. Next to it was the armory. Across the way was a medical module with two biobeds and it was fully stocked and rated as a trauma unit. The last module had two sonic showers and a decontamination cell.

Radil had Auray on a bed and was running a medical tricorder over her. The biobed's sensors were also examining her. Rockford approached while Radil was distracted.

"How are you doing?" she asked.

"Is it really over?" Auray asked with tears in her eyes.

As an Infiltrator Ryst had been captured and tortured on occasion. Rockford had been spared that but she had access to communal memories of such events. She knew that Auray needed affirmation that it was well and truly over.

She gripped the _zhen's_ hand, "It's over. You'll never see them again."

"I knew Captain McKinley wouldn't leave me." Auray sighed.

Rockford decided not to disabuse her of that notion. McKinley hadn't been pressed to abandon his pilot yet, just to delay any and all search efforts until the political climate was better. She didn't believe him to be capable of unnecessarily abandoning a member of his crew.

"Strap in. It's gonna get bumpy," Grace's voice filled the runabout. Radil and Rockford were nearly thrown off of their feet as the ship jumped to maximum impulse. They strapped Auray's waist belt and then activated the emergency crash seats in the med bay.

"We've got six hostiles in bound. Targeting sensors are active and their weapons are hot." Daggit read off from his displays.

"_Now_ you can raise shields." Macen conceded.

Grace made her announcement and then pushed the impulse engines' virtual throttle bars to maximum. The runabout leapt ahead but as it did so it drew fire from the constabulary flyers trailing it. Grace tried a serious of evasive maneuvers but the flyers were aircraft while the runabout had the aerodynamics of a brick.

"Head for the city. Maybe we can lose them in the traffic," Macen suggested.

"We're twice as big as their flyers; I _think_ we'll stand out." Grace snapped.

"But they'll have to shoot at their own people," Macen offered.

Grace grinned, "Good point."

The _Corsair_ headed for a traffic lane. Rather than get bogged down in it, she flew above in the buffer between traffic levels. The flyers continued firing.

"They're shooting at their own people!" Grace was incensed.

"How effective is their formation?" Macen asked.

"It's a two layered double delta. They're pretty much bracketing us," Grace explained.

"Try street level and see what they do," Macen ordered.

Grace gave him a wary glance and then shrugged. She rolled the runabout off of the traffic lane and dove for the deck. The flyers pursued but they gave up firing when the _Corsair _began a mad flight down city streets and lanes. Grace kept them ten meters in the air so there was no danger of hitting a person but civilian traffic lifting off and descending was nearly grazed a few times.

"Now what?" she asked.

"Just run a loop," Macen instructed.

"For how long?" she wanted to know.

"I'm working on it," he promised.

* * *

"Sir, Macen's team is under fire in downtown Verid." Kreow informed Shar.

"Contact Blek. I want to talk to him _now_!" Shar demanded.

* * *

"They're breaking off," Daggit announced.

"Why?" Macen wondered.

"Who the hell cares?" Grace opined, "As long as we can navigate again."

"Head back to the spaceport," Macen told Grace.

"Aren't we returning Auray to the _Intrepid_?" Grace wondered.

"Somebody just intervened on our behalf. This window may close if we leave the planet and it may not reopen upon our return. Auray's a survivor. She can handle a few more days without a ship's counselor," Macen said expressly.

"You're the Listener," Grace dubiously gave in.

* * *

Grace returned them to the same pad where they'd parked before. Macen explained to Auray that the team was there to rescue Admiral Johnson and the diplomatic team. She'd have to stay aboard the _Corsair_ with Grace while the others searched for Johnson and the others.

McMasters met the news that he was coming with excitement. Auray showered and replicated a new uniform and then joined Grace in the cockpit as the others exited. Grace ushered her back to passenger lounge.

"They'll comm us if they need us," she explained.

"So now what?" Auray asked.

"How are you at _Wings over Tokyo_?" Grace asked with a grin.

"You have the game here?" Auray's antennas twitched excitedly.

"I've killed the computer six ways from Sunday," Grace admitted, "I've been looking for a challenge and you present the perfect one."

"I want to be the zero pilot," Auray said with a feral grin.

"Okay, you're on," Grace readily consented and got the holoprojector and motion control joysticks out of the storage locker where they were held.


	7. Chapter 7

8 Salvation

"Of course I'll authorize reimbursement for your flyer," Macen resisted the urge to throttle the sales agent as he repeated his statement for the _fourth_ time. The Verid Constabulary had reported to the rental agency that the flyer Macen had rented was a gutted ruin. They'd left it next to the slums and the locals had stripped it and then torched it. Since it ran on fuel cells, they had detonated because of the fire and the craft was beyond recovery.

"Would you like another flyer?" the agent finally asked.

"Yes, I would," Macen almost wanted to kiss him.

"Would you like to purchase insurance or do you want to sign another damage waiver?" the agent inquired.

"We'll do everything the same as last time," Macen informed him.

"Well, hopefully you'll bring this one back," the agent sniffed.

Macen suddenly had visions of pulling his phaser free and stunning the agent and then letting Rockford fill out the forms. She hadn't anywhere near T'Kir's level of expertise with computers but she was pretty savvy. The longer he mulled it over the more tempting it became.

Rockford leaned into him, "Don't shoot him because I'm _not_ filling out those forms."

Despite knowing she wasn't a telepath he could almost swear that she was one at times, "I'll let him be."

She patted him on the arm, "Good boy."

Macen refrained from his usual reply lest he inadvertently insult the sales agent. She saw his restraint and gave him a beautiful smile. Some forms of self restraint came naturally to Macen. Control over his tongue wasn't one of them. While he could be quite diplomatic at times his natural instinct was to be sardonic.

They finally cleared the agent and the same maintenance tech led them to their new flyer. He left them with a "tsk, tsk" and an "I hope _this_ one comes back." Macen wore a pained expression. He obviously wanted to give the tech a lecture on operational realities.

Rockford chuckled as she guided him into the flyer. McMasters took over the piloting chores. Macen sat next to him in his role as navigator. Rockford and Radil comprised the second row while Daggit made up the third and final row.

McMasters lifted the flyer up in a single movement as he also applied forward thrust. It was smooth but very unexpected. The engineer just grinned like the proverbial Cheshire.

"Having fun?" Macen dryly asked.

"Hey, just `cause I build `em doesn't mean I can't fly `em," McMasters grinned.

Macen gave him a wry look, "No one ever accused you of the sort."

"Good," the engineer huffed, "Do we have a destination or should I just fly around in the traffic grid?"

"Celeste?" Macen deferred to her expertise.

They'd paid to access city and planetary maps for their personal padds. Rockford consulted hers and then read off coordinates. She then explained her choice, "The Love & Rockets is a favorite amongst mercs, smugglers, and local criminals. They don't ask questions and general information can be bought."

"Sounds like the place for us," Macen agreed.

Verid was divided into several layers. The higher the level the more prestigious and affluent it was. It also created microclimates. The Love & Rockets was located in a lower sector and the flyer moved into a weather system. It was raining in the lower levels and the rain created a brown sludge on the windscreen.

"Oh, _that_ doesn't look healthy," McMasters muttered.

"Well, It's a good thing you feel that way," Macen said happily.

"Why's that?" McMasters asked despite knowing he wouldn't like the answer.

"Because you're staying with the flyer," Macen informed him.

"Because we may need a quick getaway," the engineer replied in a flat tone.

"You're beginning to have a firm grasp on operational necessities," Macen grinned.

"Just shoot me now," McMasters groaned.

"Maybe later," Macen promised.

* * *

They parked in the nearby lot adjacent to the bar. The team, minus McMasters, stood in front of the bar's entrance. Above the doorway was a neon sign proclaiming "Love & Rockets", of course, the "&" symbol was wrapped around a phallic image with a missile erupting from its head.

"Subtle," Radil sarcastically quipped.

"Oh, it gets better," Rockford said warily. They slogged through the torrential rain while McMasters suddenly felt grateful he was left behind as he watched them enter the front door.

Macen stepped into the bar and was immediately assaulted by the several smells. Fumes from various types of carcinogenic and narcotic pipes and what not wafted in the air. The smells of sweat and stale beer hung heavily in the tainted air. Love & Rockets also boasted a slop house style kitchen so burnt food and grease permeated everything as well.

Macen barely paused before stepping aside to allow the others in. Whether blatantly or discreetly, every eye or sensing orifice was turned their way. Their armaments didn't attract any undue attention. _Everyone_ was armed in some fashion.

Daggit's sheer size caused some to turn away. Unfortunately, the sight of Radil and Rockford seemed to seize the collective imagination. Even the bulk of the women in the establishment seemed to leer at them. Macen was instantly offended but Rockford tugged on his arm.

"Remember, I've been here before. Just follow my lead," she suggested as she headed for the bar.

Macen knew she could handle herself. Annika Ryst had nearly killed him and T'Kir on three separate occasions and her Rockford persona was just as capable. Despite his protective instincts raging at maximum, it was best to settle down and let her play the game out. He looked around and didn't see any empty tables or booths. He guessed that relegated them to the bar.

Radil seemed startled. When asked, she simply said, "I think I know those people. Wait for me. I'll be back."

She wandered off to a far table near the kitchen. Servers wandered the floor, delivering drinks and food. They'd take orders and stroll on back to the kitchen and the bar. It seemed each of them was pinched or slapped on the butt at least once each pass through.

The composition of the staff and most of the clientele was indicative. They were all aliens. Whether born on Felkor or not, they were not indigenous to the planet. Only one table boasted four native Felkorians and they're tongues hung out and wagged at the passing servers.

Macen focused on Rockford's negotiation. She was saying, "…I only need pointed towards who here could contact the Orion Syndicate on our behalf. You'd get four slips of latinum for your trouble."

"Four _strips_," the bartender countered.

"Why so much?" she asked.

"You and the big guy are Angosians. Angosians are trouble. Second of all, although they're wearing Starfleet surplus, the aforementioned big guy and your boyfriend wear it _like_ it's a Starfleet uniform. _That_ spells trouble. I'm willing to bet that if trouble starts, then I won't be able to stop you or your friends from tearing the place up. That means I'll have to call in the constabulary and most of my patrons don't want to be anywhere _near_ the police. So once again…" he faltered.

"Trouble," she finished for him. Turning to Macen, she said, "Pay the man four strips of latinum."

"Yes, dear." He murmured as he pulled the coin purse out of his jacket pocket.

Rockford grinned victoriously, "And don't you forget it."

* * *

Meanwhile, Radil met the three mercenaries at the far table. There were two males and a female. She didn't recognize two of them, but she did know the sergeant wearing the company leader's bars.

"Ozzit?" she said to get his attention.

Ozzit glanced up to tell the server that he didn't need another drink yet when he suddenly realized his petitioner wasn't a server. It had been over ten years but he still recognized the Bajoran.

"Jenny!" he exclaimed.

Radil groaned, "Only Skippy ever called me that."

Ozzit laughed, "And only you called him Skippy so all's fair."

"So you're still with Brazzinik?" she asked.

"Sure am," he happily confirmed it. He patted the chair next to him, "Take a seat!"

She sat down and Ozzit shook his head, "I never thought I'd see you again, Radil. You left and then we heard you went to work for the Syndicate. Afterwards there were rumors that the Orions had put out a death mark on you. Five years later, the mark is gone and you'd disappeared."

"Not really," Radil chose to enlighten him, "I've been working for Outbound Ventures all these years."

"Aren't they a collection of privateers?" Ozzit inquired.

"Yes, I've been with the flagship since I left the Orions," she revealed.

"You must not have left the Orions on their terms or there wouldn't have been a death mark," Ozzit surmised.

"No wonder you made Master Sergeant. You're staggeringly brilliant," she dryly commented.

"I am a strategist beyond compare," he chuckled, "Although, I have to ask, when did you start wearing jewelry?"

She fingered her earring, "It just seemed right."

"Forget the bloody earring. Every Bajoran wears an earring. I'm thinking of that necklace," Ozzit pointed out, "When did practical, old Radil become froofy?"

Radil pulled the necklace's medallion out of her jumpsuit, "I think it speaks for itself."

"A Klingon marriage token?" Ozzit was stunned, "You're married?"

Radil frowned, "Don't say it like it's an impossibility."

"Sorry, but you married a _Klingon_?" Ozzit still didn't believe the evidence presented to him.

She threw her hands up, "Again with the impossibilities."

Ozzit's orange skin mottled, a sign that he was embarrassed, "It's just, I never asked you out because you seemed happy with humans and other Bajorans but you were uncomfortable with anyone who wasn't a 'pink skin'."

"I wasn't that bad!" Radil protested.

"Yes, you were," Ozzit said calmly, "So, you're married…to a Klingon wife or a husband?"

"My _husband_ is a doctor. He's a combat and trauma specialist," she asserted.

"He'd have to be to be linked with you," Ozzit quipped, "So, a husband. I'm almost surprised."

"Why?" Radil huffed.

"Because you used to undress the female members of the unit with your eyes. We all wondered when you'd snap and take one of them by force," he admitted.

Radil flushed, "I never…"

"No, but you _almost_ did," he chuckled, "So what brings you to Felkor III?"

"You first," she countered, when he started to balk she waved a finger in front of him, "You've spent all of this time embarrassing me in front of two strangers. I'd say you owe me."

Ozzit went to protest but she thrust a finger towards his nose. He caved, "We're guarding a facility with some celebrity prisoners. That's it. The Orion Syndicate didn't trust the locals to secure their prizes so we called in to supplement the locals."

The female Battalion soldier snickered, "'Replace' is more like it."

"They're a Starfleet admiral and his security force, aren't they?" Radil asked.

The table grew very quiet. Finally Ozzit wanted to know, "How do you know that?"

"Because I'm part of the rescue mission," Radil shared.

"I hate to tell you, Radil, but you've travelled a long way for no reason. Brazzinik has committed five companies to this operation. You and your people will be dead if you try and affect a rescue," Ozzit warned.

"You may be surprised," Radil replied.

"No, I won't be," Ozzit said flatly, "Look Radil, I'm warning you off as a friend. Stay out of it."

"We'll see," she said coolly.

Ozzit sighed, "Look, can I at least get you a drink?"

"I think I'd best check in with my commander," Radil rose, "Thanks for the offer though."

"Yeah, anytime," Ozzit said feebly.

* * *

Macen and Rockford sat down at a table with a Drenibian. He was less than enthusiastic to be across from the SID teammates.

"And what am I supposed to do for you?" the Drenibian asked.

"Just tell the local Syndicate Sector Boss that we want to see him or her," Macen stated simply.

"And why would they want to see you?" the alien asked.

"We're here to bargain for Admiral Johnson's life and the lives of his security detachment," Macen said as plainly as possible.

"How much latinum are we talking?" the Drenibian suddenly got very eager.

"That's for your boss to discover. But let's just say I have the credit of the United Federation of Planets behind me," Macen revealed.

"Many have said that," the Drenibian scoffed.

"But I can prove it. Have your people look up the credit limit of the Arinae Exchange. We'll talk afterwards," Macen began to rise.

"How can we contact you…presuming we're interested?" the alien tipped his hand.

"You're the Orion Syndicate," Macen grinned, "You'll be able to find us."

* * *

Macen and Rockford joined Daggit and Radil at the bar. Radil quietly described her encounter with Ozzit. Macen heartened and Radil asked him why.

"Because now we know the opposition. Or at least part of the opposition. Once we make contact with the Sector Boss, or whomever they've placed over them, then we'll know how things stand," Macen explained.

Flashing blue lights penetrated the windows as Constabulary flyers came to a landing in front of Love & Rockets. Armored officers burst through the door and waved rifles around. The Chief Inspector strode in and came to the SID team.

"You will come with me. Now," he ordered.

"And where are we going?" Macen inquired.

The Inspector's eyes narrowed, "To see Chief Conciliator Blek. That's all you need know."

The SID team surrendered their weapons but they weren't bound. They were split up into four flyers and transported through the city. The police convoy travelled upwards and across town. They came to a highly opulent high-rise and the convoy's flyers touched down on the ledge-like tarmac.

The team was reunited and then marched into the penthouse. There, guards manned posts every twenty meters or so. Each Federation agent was scanned by a tricorder and then they were admitted into the Conciliator's presence.


	8. Chapter 8

8 Salvation

Blek was surrounded by a dozen guards, which didn't include the dozen Constabulary officers surrounding the SID foursome. The regular guards looked smug while the constables were edgy. Their greater experience with foreign troublemakers clued them into the fact that the SID team was the greatest potential threat the Conciliator had faced in some time. Their hands never left the pistol grips of their sidearms.

"So, you are the troublemakers." Blek accused.

"We were minding our own business before a sizable portion of your police force brought us here," Macen pointed out the obvious, "And you _have_ to have been informed of our Level 9 clearance. That clearance prohibits the taking of my people's weapons _unless_ there's been a legal violation. That is, if you're still honoring your treaty with the Federation."

Blek blanched, "But you have violated local ordinances. You fled the scene with a fugitive."

"And what exactly is Ensign Auray guilty of, besides surviving getting shot down while you seized Starfleet personnel?" Macen wondered.

"I never…" Blek started to protest.

"Sure you did," Macen consoled him; "The Ensign could flee Felkor and run to Starfleet. You _had _to order shooting down her shuttle. And of course, once she was on the ground, she was a witness to the shuttle being knocked out of the sky so she had to be eliminated. Appearances must be maintained after all so that you have a strong negotiating position."

Blek looked frightened that he'd been read so easily, "It wasn't like that…"

"Sure it was," Macen said peaceably, "You'd driven the _Intrepid_ to the edge of your territory. You had Ekosian weapons set to be delivered and you had the ensign lost amongst the warrens of your slums. Even your police are afraid to venture in there so what chance did she stand? Let's be honest. She was just another dead alien and as long as she was dead she couldn't harm you and best of all, you could blame it on the gutter rats."

"Now, see here…" Blek tried again but once again he faltered.

Macen's eyes grew fierce and his voice grew cold, "I'm here to tell you that all of your little plans are futile."

Blek loosed a weak, barking laugh; "And why is that?"

"Because we're going to stop you," it was said with such certainty that Blek had no doubts as to the veracity of the statement.

"But what if…" Blek began before being interrupted.

"You arrest us and put us alongside Johnson and the others?" Macen asked for him, "Starfleet has already hired one rescue team, who's to say they won't hire another? And what happens when they're tired of expending civilians' lives and decide a military strike is called for?"

Blek's jaw worked noiselessly and Macen wore a cruel smile, "I can see you appreciate the possibilities. I suggest you have your constables return us to where they found us now."

Blek motioned for the Chief Inspector to come forward. Macen decided to fire one last shot across his bow, "When this done, you'll be begging Starfleet and the Federation for mercy."

Blek found his voice at last, "Federation Ambassador Blevins and Admiral Johnson certainly never talked to me this way!"

Something in Blek's voice gave away why the ambassador had been silent during all of this and Macen capitalized on the moment, "I'm supposing that was _before_ you locked them up at gunpoint. You might want to take a poll and discover their current state of mind."

Macen taunted him, "But then again, you probably won't like the results."

"Take them away!" Blek snapped.

"Shall I arrest them?" the inspector sought clarification.

Blek had a moment of insight into the SID team. Rockford, Radil, and Daggit all seemed to be standing idly by but they were engines of destruction waiting for the slightest excuse to wheel into action. Macen just stood there wearing an all too knowing grin.

"Take them back to wherever you found them but keep tabs on them." Blek ordered.

"As you say," even the inspector was relieved to be letting them go.

* * *

The team was led back to the flyers where they were once again separated. The four flyers returned to Love & Rockets. The inspector returned their various weapons. The Felkorians gave Daggit a wide berth after returning his rifle, pistols, knives, grenade launcher and grenades.

Macen looked around, "Where's Eric?"

"Good question," Radil said bitterly.

"He was following us when the cops picked us up and transported us. He probably had to lay low in order to avoid alerting the guards at the Conciliator's home," Daggit allayed their concerns, "I suspect he'll be around any minute now."

Another flyer landed in front of the bar but instead of being a rental flown by McMasters, this was a 16 passenger armored limo. It possessed 8 gull wing doors on each side and three of those doors swung open. Once open, the first two seats behind the driver were revealed to be facing back into the cab. Two armed protective services professionals got out, one to each side of the flyer. The lone passenger, a Caitian, was bedecked in an opulent business suit cut in the latest style on Delta Vega.

"Greetings Commander, my name is Kreow. My superior wishes to speak with you. I'm offering you safe conduct to, there, and from," the Caitian stated.

"And your superior represents the Orion Syndicate?" Macen asked.

Kreow brightened, "Precisely. Will you come?"

"What happens if we refuse?" Macen wondered.

"Then your only recourse to free Admiral Johnson is to face Brazinik's Battalions. I do not think you appreciate those odds, especially now that they're tipped off as to your presence," Kreow explained.

Macen looked over to Radil. She offered him a weak, repentant smile. He returned his focus to Kreow.

"You've received news of my offer?" he sought confirmation.

Kreow nodded, "Indeed. Most generous terms. We have a counter proposal ready."

"And it is?" Macen asked.

"Now, now, that's for my superior to discuss," Kreow specified.

Macen mulled it over, "All right we accept. I suppose we'll be disarmed?"

Kreow waved his hand, "No, when we reach the mansion, you will be asked to place your personal weapons in biometric keyed strongboxes. That is as much for your safety as it is for ours. Some of the Orions guarding my superior know of your exploits in eliminating Bertram Sindis. Over a dozen of their comrades died in that ambush. They hold a grudge and will react negatively to the merest hint of a weapon."

"I see," Macen conceded. He motioned for everyone to mount up. Macen sat in the seat facing Kreow. Rockford circled the flyer and sat in the seat next to Macen's. Radil followed Rockford and sat behind her, next to Daggit."

"Do you have any means of communicating with your fellow in the flyer?" Kreow wanted to know.

"Maybe," Macen replied, "Do you have a message for him?"

"If you would, let him know he can land in the paddock in the rear of the Mansion. We'll be parking there as well. Whether or not he enters into the house or not is up to you," Kreow declared.

Macen tapped the badge on his belt and gave McMasters his instructions. He was to land but wait with the flyer. Macen terminated the connection while the human vented his spleen.

The mansion they landed at had a vast, sprawling estate filled with flowers and greenery. There were also a dozen other flyers of various shapes, styles, and capacities. Macen wore a wry expression as he spoke to Kreow.

"Life's been good," he said.

The Caitian smiled, revealing razor sharp fangs, "You have no idea."

* * *

They were brought through the rear entrance of the mansion and led to the foyer. There, a revolving cache of strongboxes was sitting near the fortress-like front doors. Kreow motioned for Macen to step up and show the way for his people.

The box was large enough to hold a dozen rifles. It amused him to no end that all he was putting in there was a single Bajoran phaser pistol. He placed his thumb on the scanner next to a green light. The light became yellow to indicate his biosignature had been recorded. The lid popped open and he lifted it to see the oversized trove. Placing his phaser inside, he closed the lid and the light became red.

Afterwards they ran a tricorder over him to ascertain how honest he'd been. Satisfied they stepped aside and let each of member of the team undergo the same ritual. When they finished Kreow's comm badge, worn on his wrist, sounded.

He stepped away and not for the first time he wished T'Kir's ears were here. Fortunately, Kreow decided to share, "Your erstwhile companion has arrived and is verbally assaulting the exterior guards. Have no fears, I've informed them that he is not to be touched _unless_ he makes the first move."

Macen could only hope the Irishman would hold his temper.

They were led through the mansion by Kreow. Four massive Orions stood around a door. Kreow urged the SID team to keep moving. He depressed the door chime and the door slid open. He entered and Macen's companions followed. Inside Shar sat behind an expansive, and expensive, hardwood desk. The Andorian rose and came around to shake Macen's hand.

"It is a pleasure to finally meet you. Brin Macen, the giant killer. Please have a seat. I can have refreshments brought in. I was about to take my afternoon tea. I do hope you will join me," Shar said pleasantly.

"Starfleet Intelligence lists Kreow there as the sector boss. That makes you someone more dangerous," Macen assessed.

Shar smiled, "I do like you, Commander. Shall we dispense with the looming questions while we await our tea?"

"First, could you have something brought out to my man on the landing paddock?" Macen inquired, "I'm certain he's feeling peckish by now."

"Of course," Shar obligingly agreed and called the kitchen. He ordered a veritable feast and then got down to business, "You're here to liberate, and I presume eliminate if liberation is not an option, one Admiral Robert Tavar Johnson. Then of course there's his security detachment and the Federation ambassador. You've already recovered his pilot so you are feeling the flush of success."

"I must tell you, your chances of extracting or killing Johnson are next to nothing. Ms. Radil can tell you of Brazinick's efficiency and competence. She herself was a stellar example of their Battalion so we hired her." Shar chuckled at this point, "Of course, you literally stole her away from us."

"Nostalgia is interesting but you're digressing," Macen accused.

Even _that_ amused Shar, "You must learn to enjoy the moment, Commander."

Seeing that Macen was unfazed, Shar got to the point; "Your offer, while interesting, isn't enough."

"We're talking about nearly unlimited funds," Macen pointed out.

"Yes, but we are not after funds. We want a service," Shar revealed.

Macen was immediately suspicious, "What _kind_ of service?"

"Nothing onerous, I assure you," Shar chuckled, "It is a task you may even enjoy accomplishing."

"What is the task?" Macen was actually dying of curiosity.

"We want Chief Conciliator Blek removed from office," Shar announced.

"Removed as in out of office, off the planet, or dead?' Macen sought clarification.

"Off the planet or dead would be the favorable results," Shar decided.

"May I ask why?" Macen inquired, "After all, he is your lap dog, no pun intended."

"Blek is far from our lap dog," Shar enjoyed the jest, intentional or not; "He is a highly uncooperative ally at best."

"Sounds as though that's his motif," Macen dryly remarked.

"Yes, it is spreading," Shar conceded.

"Why don't you remove him yourself? You've certainly got the manpower," Macen brought up the obvious point.

"The Orion Syndicate cannot be seen as taking sides in local politics," Shar stated.

"Even though you are," Macen quipped.

Shar bowed his head once, "Even though we are."

"I take it Blek's removal is already in motion?" Macen sought confirmation for his suspicion.

"Yes. You're involvement would just clean things up into a tidy package," Shar shared.

"Such as giving the next Chief Conciliator legitimacy and a perfect excuse to abandon the treaty with the Federation," Macen surmised.

"To be blunt, denying this request would only be delaying the inevitable and condemn Johnson to a Klingon mind sifter. His implant will undoubtedly fry his brain under those circumstances but we can at least say we tried," Shar was so nonchalant that it was frightening.

Macen had an uncomfortable realization that Shar was another Sindis on a much smaller scale. The base attitude regarding sentient life was the same and that's all that mattered. He couldn't leave Bob, Ian, and Jonathan in the Andorian's hands.

"We'll do it," he declared.

He heard the rustle behind him as his teammates reacted. They were undoubtedly surprised. Then again, they were all realists and knew that this was the best option around. Radil's dismay at potentially facing her old comrades in arms would be allayed. Which was good, he'd need her focused for the task ahead. They would all have to be focused. And Grace and even Auray would get in on the action so that would stymie some of the complaints.

Shar seemed to sense Macen's thoughts, "I'm so glad you agreed. When do you think you can be finished?"

"I'll try and stick to my original time table," Macen shared, "We'll make our attempt the day after tomorrow."

Macen began to rise and Shar halted him, "Please stay. Your tea has just arrived and I can provide many of the details that you will need to continue with your assignment. If you could each hand me a padd, we shall begin."

Everybody complied while a steward arrived to serve their desires. Shar had details on the Conciliator's home, guard detail, flyers, offices, daily routines, personal preferences, eating and sleeping habits, and his itinerary for the week. All of which revealed how badly and how ready the Syndicate was to removing him themselves. If Johnson's life hadn't been on the line, Macen would've forced the crime racket into doing it themselves but as it was, removing Blek was a cheap price for six lives.


	9. Chapter 9

9 Salvation

The team had received the pertinent data from the Orion Syndicate's databanks and left. As they were boarding the flyer, Shar took Macen aside.

"I can give you seven days. After that Johnson will be offworld and in the heart of the Orion Confederacy. As you already know, the Ekosians are coming with an arms shipment. These arms will be used in support of the coup that will occur of Blek is still in office after that deadline. I know you said you would strike on the third day of your visit here, but can you really manage such a thing on such short notice?" Shar spoke.

"Ask Daveed B'nner," Macen replied.

_That_ silenced Shar. No Syndicate agent would ever forget what Macen's compatriots had done after B'nner killed Macen and his Vulcan wife. The mystery of how the pair had been restored to life was shrouded in legend. The tellers of such stories, though typically reliable, were never believed.

* * *

The SID team flew back to the spaceport. There they rejoined Grace and Auray. The two pilots were thrilled to learn that they would have a role to play in upcoming events.

Macen loaded the info on the padds onto the ship's computer. From there, Grace and Auray loaded their own padds and dutifully followed along as the team dissected the data. What was quickly decided was that Blek needed to be observed throughout tomorrow. His comings and goings had to be charted. He had two meetings during the day and it would prove useful to observe his security team in action.

Daggit quickly ruled out an extraction from Blek's domicile. It was too heavily fortified and defended. They might as well strike Mount Fildkirk and try their hand against Brazzinik's Battalions. No one relished _that_ particular thought. Just to be certain though, Radil shared her knowledge of the Battalions' strengths. She also revealed that Brazzinik had five companies on Felkor. Two would be on duty at all times. Two would be on stand-by and the remaining one would enjoy a furlough.

"We'll need more flyers," Macen decided, "Hannah, you'll pilot one. Auray, you have another and Eric, you have the third."

"But there are four approaches to the compound," McMasters pointed out.

"But we're going to have two stationary units and one mobile. Ensign Auray, how are you at blending into normal traffic?" Macen wondered.

"How do you mean, sir?" she asked.

"I mean, can you repeatedly fly around the compound without attracting official attention?" he clarified.

"Just say the word," she promised.

"Good," Macen grinned, "Because I want you to do the opposite."

"Say what?" she yelped.

"I want them to know you're there. Be obvious. I want them at their highest stage of alert. Then we'll know what a worst case scenario will look like," Macen explained his reasoning.

"If you say so, sir," Auray relented.

"And stop calling me 'sir'," Macen instructed, "I'm not in Starfleet anymore."

"Yessir!" Auray's cheeks darkened to a deeper shade of blue, "I mean…"

"I understand," Macen said with a longsuffering air. He turned back to his padd, "When Blek departs Hannah will follow them. Rab, Jenrya, you'll be with her. Watch his security when he disembarks. I want to know if we can mount a snatch and grab at a scheduled destination."

"I take it that leaves you and me with Eric back at the compound," Rockford observed.

"Yeah, and I have an idea," Macen said.

"Oh?" her eyebrows lifted, "Do tell."

"It's a surprise," Macen replied.

Rockford looked over towards McMasters, "We're going to get shot at."

"Not necessarily," Macen said defensively.

"Darling, all of your plans involve us getting shot at," Rockford duly informed him.

"We'll get to shoot back," Macen offered as way of consolation.

"I might just shoot you," Rockford warned.

"Where's the fun in that?" Macen asked.

Rockford's laugh was one of sheer delight, "Trust _me_, it'd be fun."

Macen's expression was less than mirthful.

* * *

Sleeping in the runabout was a crowded affair. Macen and Rockford shared a cot in the rear lounge. Radil and Auray shared the other cot. Both were familiar with sleeping with members of a female gender and felt comfortable spooning.

Grace grabbed a biobed and McMasters took the other bed. Grace warned McMasters that he'd better not snore and he laughed, "Like your boyfriend doesn't."

Grace was mortified. How did he know Ian had a light snore, almost like a purr? Fortunately for Delaney, Grace found it charming. Of course the thrill would eventually wear off.

Daggit strapped himself into the seat at the Tactical station and slept there. As an Angosian Augment, he would have been just as comfortable on the deck. He just wanted ready access to the defensive systems in case the Felkorian constables came calling. While he could be comfortable anywhere, he _preferred_ sleeping by Parva's side. He'd grown used to her blazing warmth. And besides, her supple curves were much more inviting than a crash harness.

* * *

The next morning they rented their extra fliers and went to work. Grace and McMasters each set down on nearby landing platforms. They'd only be able to stay for a short time before building security investigated them. Meanwhile, Auray was making her circles of the Conciliator's building. Watching her through sensor glasses, Macen grinned; "Auray is doing just fine. Blek's security detail has to be going insane."

"His motorcade is supposed to deploy in three minutes," Rockford reminded him.

"Wait, they're deploying a flyer," Macen took a sensor reading, "It has police markings and disruptor cannons. Wave Auray off."

Rockford commed her, "Auray, it's time to break off. You have a pursuit vehicle after you. Lose them and then join us at the spaceport."

Auray acknowledged and flew off with the security flyer in hot pursuit. Next, the motorcade deployed. It consisted of two flyers fore, a limo, and two flyers aft. Grace immediately took off after them.

"I hope Hannah's smart enough to keep a low profile," McMasters fretted, "They're seriously outgunned."

"Hannah knows what she's doing. Now, get us in that landing bay before they seal it," Macen instructed.

McMasters gunned it and the flyer shot forward. He noted Macen was wearing a wry expression, "What?"

"I was just wondering if we could go back and get my teeth," Macen dryly commented.

"You wanted us in there. Well, the roll down gate is already closing. It's gonna be tight as it is," McMasters warned.

They did scrape the roof of the flyer across the gate as it was rolling down. It was essentially a cabled net intended to simply keep people from entering. The questions were, how strong was it, and would it trap them inside?

The flyer came to a halt. The entire level below the Chief Conciliator's residence was a parking and maintenance garage. It wouldn't take long for the remaining security staff to mobilize so they had to be quick.

The trio exited the flyer and the all drew their sidearms. The first guard appeared and Rockford gunned him down. As discussed, their phasers were set on stun. The Felkorians didn't have that option nor would they be inclined to use it if they had it but Macen wanted to minimize casualties.

They stormed up the stairs into the residence. Two guards had them pinned down in the foyer. Macen was exchanging fire with them while Rockford weighed her options.

Pulling a stun grenade out of her belt, she armed it, and then lobbed it in between the two guards. The energy wave lashed out and stunned the pair despite their armor. Macen kept a cover position and Rockford surged forward. She made it to the main hallway and stopped. She took a scan with her tricorder while Macen and McMasters followed her.

Rockford held up three fingers. Macen nodded then waved in the direction of the hallway with his free hand. She braced up against the wall and held up three fingers and then counted down. When she curled her last finger she spun around the corner and began firing at targets as they presented themselves.

Macen crossed the width of the entrance, firing as he did so. He made it to the other side and Rockford sought shelter. Macen tilted his hand to the left, then held it straight up, and then tilted it to the right. Rockford nodded. That was indeed where their foes were located.

Macen pointed at McMasters. Rockford jerked her thumb towards him and shrugged. Macen made a motion, acting like his phaser was a breech loader, and he was inserting a round. Rockford grinned and gave him a thumbs up. She whispered into McMasters' ear and he started grinning like the proverbial Cheshire.

He pulled what looked like a flare gun out of his jacket. Opening the breech, he pulled a cylindrical round out of a bandolier that he wore. Sliding the round in, he snapped the gun shut. Rockford stepped out of the way and allowed McMasters to take her place. He made a finger gun with his hand and aimed down the hallway.

Macen spun around the corner and began to fire. The three Felkorian guards returned that fire. McMasters poked his head around and got his bearings. Then he stepped out and fired the gun. He hopped back around the corner as the Felkorians started shooting at him as well. Macen did the duck and cover.

The three guards stared at the round embedded into the floor between them and then they stared at one another. It pinged and they all barked a yelp as it detonated. The round discharged a burst of neural electricity. Since most humanoid nervous systems were triggered by the same bioelectric energy, the round was effective for most races.

After the initial blast, the Felkorians lay twitching. That effect quickly wore off and the SID trio calmly waltzed past them and into the Conciliator's office. Macen headed straight for the comp/comm. Rockford surveyed the room. McMasters stayed with the aide's desk.

Macen fished a padd out of his belt and linked it to the computer. It carried one of T'Kir's tapeworms. Ostensibly, it would unlock the network's security restrictions and grant access to any and all files.

The worm successfully loaded and within minutes access was granted. He was searching for files detailing Felkor's arrangements with the Orion Syndicate. What he discovered was larger than that. Rockford hurried over as she saw him turn white.

"What is it? What's wrong?" she inquired.

Macen returned the computer to stand-by mode and broke the link in between the padd and the network, "We need to go."

"What is it?" she stubbornly refused to budge.

Macen told her what he'd discovered. Rockford fumed, "So all of this has been a game."

"Essentially. Blek is going to break faith with the Federation whether he stays in office or not," he confirmed it, "The plan all along was for a squadron to rush in and get ambushed."

"And instead they got us," Rockford said with distaste in her mouth, "I don't know whether to laugh at the irony or cry."

"Look at it this way, at least we aren't breaking our contract," Macen offered.

Rockford just glared at him.

"Guys!" McMasters poked his head in, "The computer out here is tied into the security system. Someone is still running around here and they've recalled the flyer that was chasing Auray."

"ETA?" Macen inquired.

"The call went out when we first entered the residence so I assume they'll be here any minute now," McMasters informed them.

"Time to move," Macen ordered.

"Gee, you think?" McMasters quipped but he hustled.

McMasters put the flyer in reverse and smashed into the security fence. Designed to keep flyers out and not in, it broke free of its brackets and fell the dozens of stories straight down towards the streets below. McMasters aimed at the direction the spaceport lay and gunned it.

The guards' flyer spotted them exiting and whipped around and started to pursue. Their disruptors opened fire and the rental flyer was struck several times. McMasters grinned.

"I don't think you'll be getting your deposit back. Between the roof, the rear, and the weapons fire I'd say we'll end up owing the agency money," he grinned.

"Can you think of anything to lose them?" Macen wondered.

"Yeah, but we may get a little more banged up," McMasters warned.

"I think I'm already going to have to buy them a new flyer anyway," Macen replied.

"Strap in. This is gonna get hairy," McMasters instructed.

He steadied the steering yoke with his knees while he pulled on his own crash harness. This made them a steady target of convenience. He had everyone sound off when they were ready. When everyone had confirmed their preparation he dove the flyer…straight _down_.

Descending through layers of traffic, he dodged and weaved around crossing flyers and transports as best he could. They glanced off of several vehicles in different levels. The guards doggedly pursued them, firing their weapons the entire time.

They were in the teen levels when the guards' flyer was smashed head on by a large transport. The wreckage of the flyer continued to spiral downwards. McMasters leveled out and joined traffic. In the same level, the stricken flyer was hit again by yet another transport. This time it was flung into the opposing lane and hit head on by another flyer. It returned to falling and eventually smashed into the long forsaken streets below.

McMasters was quite pleased with himself, at least he was until he looked over and recognized Macen's displeasure; "What's wrong? We escaped them."

"I thought I made it plain that I wanted a zero body count," Macen expressed.

"When did you go so soft? Back in the Maquis…" McMasters began.

"We aren't in the Maquis," Macen snapped, "Those days are over, Eric. What worked then doesn't work now."

"Well, you certainly don't seem to think so most of the time!" McMasters accused, "One minute we aren't talking prisoners and then we suddenly are. Which is it going to be?"

"It all depends upon operational necessity," Macen was trying to stay calm but he was getting irritated and more than a tad defensive, "Our contracts determine our limits. That changes with each contract."

"That's stupid," McMasters vented.

"It's our life. Can you or can you not live it?" Macen wanted to know.

McMasters gave it serious thought before he finally spoke, "Yeah, I can live with it."

"Then you can stay with the team," Macen decided.

McMasters suddenly realized his future had been on the line. Although he'd only been with the SID unit for eighteen months, he instinctively knew he'd miss it. The members of the team had become his friends. Although Parva wasn't a member of the team, she regularly consulted with him. She respected his opinion and would want a second opinion or some advice on a project of hers.

Grace had become a dear friend as well. She'd been adrift after the loss of T'Kir. McMasters had put her to work on a complete refit of the _Corsair_ and they'd grown close as the work progressed.

It seemed odd to McMasters that his two closest friends were women. _Unavailable_ women at that. In fact, the only female member of the team that was available was Tessa and she was available to _everyone_. But the truth was, there was only one woman for him: Lisea Danan. Despite her marriage to Tom Riker, he still fantasized about her.

No women, real or holographic, had ever _known_ him the way that she had. It had stuck with him. Every relationship afterwards became compared to those two weeks with Danan and it fell apart. He knew it bordered on delusional obsession and he didn't give a damn. Danan was the woman for him no matter whom she thought she was married to!

* * *

They regrouped at the spaceport. The rental agency did indeed ream Macen inside and out for the damages. He paid the overinflated price of buying a new flyer and left. Fortunately, they wouldn't need any more flyers while they were here.

Daggit reported that a snatch and grab at the hotel was impossible. Auray had listened in to official police chatter and discovered Blek was staying in the hotel until a replacement for the security net was installed. Work crews were already on it and they expected to be finished this evening.

Blek was refusing to move until morning, _late_ morning, and several breakfasts later. Radil proposed taking him in the hotel. A lively debate arose and finally Grace interrupted.

"The easiest place to take him is the route," she declared. Every eye turned to her, "He has the least amount of protection while the flyers are en route. Reinforcements aren't readily available; they have to be called in."

She hesitated and Macen urged her on, "Keep going, Hannah."

She moved to the lounge's table and Rockford left her seat so Grace could sit down. Grace activated the touch screen controls and after selecting the map reader app, she traced the motorcade's route, "This is the route they took to get to the hotel. According to Auray's intercepts, they feel it's secure so they're retracing their steps to get back. What I noticed while we followed them is that _this_ tower is unfinished."

She highlighted a tower along the route and then she expanded it, "The top thirty floors are an expansion to the lower levels. The roof is already reinforced. That means we could drive the motorcade into the superstructure, land on the roof, and then pursue them before they can escape the jamming field we'll have in place."

"You thought of this on your own?" Macen asked.

Grace shrugged, "Traffic was light."

"Well, it's brilliant," he declared. Grace smiled great big and practically glowed with pride.

"Rab, can you shoot down some of the flyers before herd the limo into the superstructure?" Macen wondered.

"What happened to zero body count?" McMasters snidely asked.

"I got some good readings on their flyers with my tricorder today. I should be able to disable them enough where they have to fall away without blowing them up or send them hurtling towards the ground," Daggit looked to Macen, "That's assuming we're using the _Corsair_."

"You bet your bippy we're using her," Macen grinned.

"My what?" Daggit was completely befuddled by the reference.

"Never mind," Macen waved the thought away, "We have an idea folks, now let's turn it into a plan."


	10. Chapter 10

9 Salvation

The night was spent largely as the evening before. They received a communiqué from Shar the next morning outlining Blek's departure time and route. Macen wisely neglected to say that they'd worked out the route but he made a point of confirming the departure time.

Grace lifted the _Corsair_ off of the tarmac ten minutes before Blek's motorcade was to depart. Auray sat beside her, acting as OPS Officer. Daggit had the Tactical station. Macen had bumped McMasters out of the cockpit. The Engineering console now acted as an Infosys board. That was a special command option McMasters had created for Macen.

The engineer joined Radil and Rockford in the rear lounge. They sat around the table, strapped into their seats. They didn't have any clue as to what kind of hairy maneuvers Grace would attempt. Even with the artificial gravity and inertial dampers it was still far too easy to get thrown from your seat when you couldn't anticipate what was coming next.

The _Corsair _filed a flight plan and made like she was slowly lifting off. Grace slowed the process to a crawl and was queried by Traffic Control.

"Sorry Traffic," Grace lied, "I seem to be having difficulties with my impulse manifold. Give my engineer time to lock it down."

They shunted her to a holding pattern over the city. Grace swung into it and came on to approach over Blek's hotel. Macen studied the sensor readings. Suddenly he grinned.

"The motorcade is setting out," he announced, "Okay Hannah, do your thing."

Grace pitched the runabout into a dive. The _Corsair_ came up on the unsuspecting motorcade. It was then that Traffic Control put out the alert that the Federation runabout was off course and in the city. The guards in the flyers immediately spotted the spacecraft.

"You're up, Rab," Grace announced.

Daggit fired his first phaser volley. It disabled the engine of the lead flyer. It began to sink out of the traffic lane. The second shot damaged the next flyer guiding the limo. It couldn't keep up and fell away. Now Daggit used narrow misses to "steer" the limo.

The two rear flyers split up. One dropped back behind the _Corsair_ and opened fire on her. The runabout's shields were holding but they wouldn't be able to land with the shields up. So Daggit had to divert his attention to disabling the chasing aircraft.

By the time he got back to the limo, it was almost too late. He fired with every forward phaser and got the limo redirected so that it crashed into the framework of the construction site. The remaining flyer followed it in.

The limo was on the 64th Floor and the runabout landed on the roof, right above the floor. The SID team piled out of the ship, fully armed and loaded for anything. Radil and Daggit descended the closest stairwell. Grace and McMasters took the lift while Macen and Rockford ran to the opposing stairwell.

Radil and Daggit appeared even as Grace and McMasters did. Two guards opened up on Grace and McMasters. The Kelvan and the human sought shelter behind different support columns. The bundle of girders deflected the disruptor fire. Grace returned fire and McMasters joined her.

While the guards' attention was focused on the pilot and the engineer, Radil hoisted her phaser cannon and unleashed several salvos at the limo. Daggit wracked a round into his grenade launcher. He unloaded a photon grenade at the flyer. Another one followed as did another. The right side of the flyer was a gutted ruin as Daggit slung his grenade launcher and began to use his phaser rifle.

Meanwhile, the guards formed up as best they could to try and keep the SID under cover while they extracted Blek to the other stairwell. Pulling the Chief Conciliator out of the limo, the four free protective services men started hustling him towards the remaining stairwell. The race would occur over ground with minimal cover. The only protection was the support girders but they would have to risk it.

"Why haven't you called for help?" Blek asked in a panicked voice as he crouched behind the limo.

His Protective Agent in Charge explained to him, "The Starfleet vermin have erected a jamming field. We can't talk amongst ourselves much less to the outside world. We need to get to the lower levels of the building, out of range of their jammers."

"How do you know it doesn't cover the entire building?" Blek wanted to know.

"They're using their runabout to jam our signals. That means the field has a very limited range. Runabouts, even Starfleet ones, only have so much power to spare," The PAC explained, "Now we have to get you across that empty space and to that stairwell. Do you see the stairwell?"

Blek nodded and the PAC spoke again, "I need to hear you say it. Do you see the stairwell?"

"Yes, I see it," Blek confirmed.

"When I give the word, we're going to run to that stairwell. The detail will move with you so you'll be safe. We'll be all around you, do you understand?" the PAC asked.

Blek nodded, "I understand."

The PAC signaled the other three agents and then he said, "Go!"

Blek had an agent in front of him, one on either side, and the PAC behind him. The PAC worriedly watched as Daggit picked off the agents left behind. As soon as one presented an available target, Radil would nail them with the cannon.

The agents at dealing with Grace and McMasters were down and the pair was trying to reposition to get a decent shot at their huddle. The guard to Blek's right laid down suppressive fire but Grace managed to hit him. The PAC took his place and forced Grace to retreat.

They reached the stairwell door and the lead agent swung it open and started to sweep the area visually and with his weapon. Unfortunately for him, Macen and Rockford were laying in wait. The agent was immediately stunned by Macen. Rockford, who'd been waiting pressed up against the wall, shot the agent to Blek's left.

The PAC forced Blek behind him. Radil and Daggit were the furthest away so he'd have a moment before the rear was threatened again. He began rapidly firing into the stairwell. Rockford simply scooted to her left and was safe. Macen hopped to his right and took cover behind the wall.

The PAC backed Blek up. The Chief Conciliator was terrified out of his mind. Why was Starfleet after him? Sure he'd taken an admiral and his men hostage, sure he was holding the Federation ambassador, sure he'd tried to threaten these people, but why would that make them hostile? On Felkor it was a typical negotiating tactic.

"Hey! Big boy!" Radil called out from the limo.

The PAC swung Blek around so he could face the accursed Bajoran and shoot her. Her phaser cannon blew him over. Blek was left all alone, standing in the middle of the vast area, trembling and whimpering.

All of the SID team members surrounded him. Macen grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and began guiding him to the nearest stairwell. Blek protested all the way, but he obediently followed direction.

They reached the roof level and marched Blek to the runabout. Inside Auray had news to report.

"The Constabulary has dispatched four flyers to investigate reports of our shooting the fuzzball down," she stated.

"Hey!" Blek yelped.

Radil shoved him forward with the emitter of her phaser cannon. She herded him to the lounge area. He plopped down into a chair. Radil kept the cannon's emitter placed in his chest. Rockford knelt beside Blek.

"Give me your wrist," she instructed. She used a pair of binders and locked his wrist to the chair's center support strut.

She got up and turned to Radil, "Get rid of that cannon while you can. I'll watch Fido here."

McMasters arrived, "How's the pooch?"

"He's probably been in better moods," Rockford replied as she took a seat. McMasters took the one to Blek's left. Radil returned and sat down.

"We'd better strap him in. Hannah let me know that we're running from the constables," Radil warned.

"My people will find you and kill you," Blek promised.

Rockford only fastened the waist belt, "Your people already have a new leader."

"That's impossible," Blek said defiantly.

"We get local channels. Want to watch the news and see?" Rockford smiled thinly.

She activated the table's touch screen. She then activated a comm channel and surfed until Blek told her to stop. A local news station reported Blek's death at the hands of "Starfleet terrorists". Vice Conciliator Ner had already been sworn in as Chief Conciliator. The planetary Constabulary was on high alert with orders to bring in the murderers, dead or alive.

"But I had assurances," Blek said weakly.

"From Shar?" Radil asked, "He made the deal that got you out of office. The deal was 'dead or alive'. We prefer alive. So you'll be an exile. So what? The Federation is very accommodating even to traitors."

"What makes you say that?" Blek's panic level was starting to rise again.

"We know about your intended change of allegiance," Rockford said coldly, "You really thought the Typhon Pact would offer you better terms?"

* * *

The Typhon Pact was a collective of sovereign, star faring governments. It was composed of the Romulan Star Empire, the Breen Confederacy, The Tzenkethi Coalition, the Gorn Hegemony, the Tholian Assembly, and the Holy Order of the Kinshaya. It had taken some doing to unite the xenophobic Tholians and Gorn with outside forces. The Romulans and the Breen had once been enemies but times had since changed. None of the members states easily allied with outsiders yet their desperation had been great enough to bring them together.

In response, the Federation and the Klingon Empire expanded the Khitomer Accords to include the Cardassian Union and the Ferengi Alliance. The Cardassians had been a recent inclusion. Gul Maret's Unionists had fallen prey to a popular uprising that they'd inadvertently fostered. Democratic leaders were back in control. The proposed constitutional monarchy was established at long last and the government wasted no time in formally allying itself with the Federation and the Klingons.

The Ferengi, still guided by Grand Nagus Rom, saw their inroads into the markets of the Typhon Pact dry up and they sought protection from the encroaching Orion Syndicate and the ever expanding Meirkus Conglomerate. The UFP, the Klingon Empire, and the Cardassian Union had all been weakened by recent events, whether Borg incursions or internal strife, and their markets were open to what the Ferengi had to offer. The Accords also paved the way to the Protectorate regions and thus an economic boom was created on Alliance worlds.

Despite the Ferengi's official sanction, they faced stiff competition in the Protectorates from the Orion Syndicate. The Orions, struggling to stay relevant in the modern era, were rapidly expanding their concerns, often times with government assistance. Felkor was but a symptom of a widespread disease.

* * *

"I don't know what you're talking about," Blek found his voice but he sounded weak and defeated rather than defiant.

"You'd best hope that we find the admiral and his party unmolested or we'll take it out of your hide," Radil warned. The look in her eyes told Blek she meant every word.

* * *

"Move it!" the Master Sergeant from the Brazzinik's Battalions commanded as his troops herded Johnson, Delaney, Striker, the two Security officers, and Ambassador Blevins out in from of Mount Fildkirk.

They were marched out into a landing field. Shar's limo was already there and the Andorian greeted Johnson.

"So Admiral, we meet at last," he said.

"I take it you're the brains behind this operation?" Johnson wondered.

"You flatter me. Think of me as a humble facilitator," Shar urged.

"I rather doubt you're all that humble and you have the stench of the Orion Syndicate all over you," Johnson replied.

"Yes, but I also arranged for your release. So a little gratitude should be forthcoming," Shar challenged.

"You _have_ to know what I think of the Syndicate," Johnson said gruffly, "You're only releasing me because it's convenient to do so. You're gaining something somewhere."

"Yes, we did," Shar chuckled.

"_We_?" Johnson asked.

"Yes, _we_," Shar said coldly, "You'll learn all about that soon enough."

One of the battalion troops reported to the Master Sergeant and the Sergeant in return reported to Shar, "We have a _Danube_-class runabout coming in hot. It looks as though the entire Constabulary force is on their heels."

"Prepare for a touch and go," Shar warned.

The mercenaries scrambled.

* * *

"Hannah, we have constables on our tail," Macen reported as he viewed the sensor readings.

"How many?" she asked.

"All of them," Macen said grimly.

"I'm boosting speed. If we get some distance between them and us then we can make a landing, gather everyone up, and take off again just as the Felkorians catch up with us," Grace hypothesized, "Rab, think you can use the chase armament to discourage pursuit?"

"I've just been waiting for _someone _to ask," Daggit grumped.

"You have permission to engage the enemy," Macen said dryly.

"Right," Daggit said tersely as he went to work.

Grace swiftly outran the horde of flyers. She swung in on the landing tarmac before the fortress. Several Battalion troopers scattered as she came at breakneck speeds. However she came to a halt and gently sat the runabout down. The hatch opened and Macen appeared.

"Macen?" Johnson couldn't quite believe it.

"Don't just stand there," Macen shouted, "Get aboard."

The Starfleet officers and the ambassador looked to Shar. The Andorian nodded, "I suggest you follow his instructions. His pursuers will be here in any moment. Your compatriots are the most vulnerable here on the ground waiting for you."

"Everybody board the runabout!" Johnson ordered. He turned to Shar, "This isn't over."

Shar was amused, "It is on this planet. Trust me Admiral; we'll meet again in the near future."

"I wish I could say I'm looking forward to it," Johnson countered.

"Bob! Haul ass or get left behind!" Macen yelled.

Johnson ran to the runabout and boarded her. Delaney had been standing by in case the admiral needed help. He was the last to board. He sealed the hatch.

"Hannah?" Delaney excitedly asked Macen.

"At the CONN but I think you can wait to have a moment," Macen advised, "Gentlemen, if you'd proceed to the rear lounge, you can get situated. This is going to be bumpy."

The runabout lurched as Grace used the antigravs to lift it off the ground and threw the impulse throttle to maximum all at the same time.

"I see what you mean," Johnson said with a wry grin.

"Hannah, I love you," Delaney called before exiting the cockpit.

"I love you too, you big goof. Now strap yourself in," she called back.

Macen strapped up his crash harness as he checked the sensors, "They've caught up with us."

"Shields are up," Daggit reported as he shrugged on his harness. As soon as he'd finished that chore he began to return fire. The Constabulary flyers were targeting them and firing as opportunities arose.

Grace climbed into the atmosphere. Auray had strapped in and spelled Grace as she strapped in. The Andorian warned her partner, "This is where they opened up on me."

"Rab, tie me into the tactical sensors," Grace requested. The runabout shook as the first disruptor bank hit it.

"Let's see if we can avoid that," Grace murmured.

She began a series of evasive maneuvers. She deftly dodged one burst after another. Auray gaped at Grace's skill. Little did she know that Grace wasn't even remotely human despite all appearances to the contrary.

Grace cleared the disruptors' range with only a half dozen strikes against the shields. They were weakened but they held. What they discovered beyond the lunar range was a flotilla of Typhon Pact ships. Romulan Warbirds, Breen cruisers, Tzenkethi warships, floated beside Tholian and Gorn ships. The _Corsair_ was immediately hailed.

"Route it to my screen," Macen instructed Grace.

Of all the people to appear on his screen, Commander P'ris was the least expected of them. She wore an uncomfortable smile, "Greetings Commander."

"Hello to you as well," Macen returned her greeting, "Been here long?"

"Long enough," was all she'd say, "You are free to go but the _Imperator_ will escort you out of the system."

"Is that the Warbird you're aboard?" Macen asked.

Her chin ducked once in a tense nod, "There will be no further communication between our vessels. You will return to the _Obsidian_ and then depart the system. The _Intrepid _will leave as well. This territory is now closed to the members of the Khitomer Accords. Test our resolve at your peril."

Macen frowned. He couldn't help it. P'ris was obviously working under duress but unless he could her off of that Warbird, there was nothing to be done.

"I've transmitted your approved transit route. Do not deviate from this path. I repeat, do not deviate from the path," P'ris warned.

Macen could've sworn there was something in her voice. A slight catch perhaps. He forwarded the data to Grace. She perused it and snorted. Macen tried to hide his resultant smile.

"Very well, Commander. We shall abide by your terms…for now," Macen replied.


	11. Chapter 11

8 Salvation

The _Imperator_ escorted the _Corsair _to the edge of the system. Of course, the Tzenkethi cruiser _Almerac_, the Gorn battleship _Horn's Tooth_, the Tholian frigate _Akethene's Pride_, and the Breen dreadnought _Erekeman_ also escorted the diminutive runabout. P'ris hadn't said anything about additional escorts to the Romulan Warbird but the Typhon Pact was known for committing entire squadrons to the smallest tasks as a show of solidarity…or mistrust.

The _Intrepid_ hadrolled all of her fighters but the _Akira_-class cruiser was still outgunned and outmatched. The _Nova_-class surveyor holding the border with her was a tough ship but the _Obsidian_ was ill-equipped to fight this squadron. Kend signaled that she and her convoy were proceeding as arranged. All of the Typhon Pact ships broke off and escorted the Ekosians to Felkor except for the _Imperator_.

P'ris revealed herself to be in command of that ship when she commed McKinley and demanded that he exit the system. The good Captain resisted and tempers began to flare.

"Your admiral is being recovered by the _Obsidian _while we speak. Once he and his men are secure, you _will_ depart and only return if your desire for open warfare between our two coalitions supersedes your common sense," P'ris declared.

"You'll forgive me if I don't want to take the word of a hostile agent," McKinley rebutted, "I need to hear these demands from Chief Conciliator Blek."

"Blek is no longer in power," P'ris retorted, "I can request confirmation through the offices of Chief Conciliator Nar. "

"It will take some time for my government to recognize the legitimacy of Nar _and _of your coup here. I will have to stay on station while I confirm the legitimacy of the Felkorians' government," McKinley threw out his last barrage.

P'ris had had enough, "Leave the diplomatic maneuvering to Admiral Johnson, Captain McKinley. You have lost. Accept that and learn from it. Now begone!"

McKinley turned his head to the side and was obviously getting feedback from a third party. He obviously disagreed with what was being said but he acquiesced. P'ris jotted down a reminder for her to thank Macen and Johnson.

"All right. I've received my orders. We'll be pulling out as you've requested but we will be back," McKinley announced.

"Only if you want a war," P'ris warned.

"We'll see," McKinley replied, "Out."

P'ris sagged in her seat as the transmission ceased. What a way to start a day.

* * *

In the _Corsair_, Grace watched her instruments and signaled when the hangar bay had achieved matching atmosphere and pressure. Daggit opened the hatch and exited. Macen followed him out and Auray was on his heels.

They waited on the deck while Radil marched Blek out of the runabout. Daggit joined her and they escorted Blek to a holding cell where he would remain until his peculiar status was determined. Johnson, Striker, and the two Security officers were next out. Rockford and McMasters were on their heels. Delaney spent a moment alone with Grace inside of the _Corsair_.

"It's good to see you safe and sound, Ensign," Johnson addressed Auray.

"It's only because of Commander Macen and his crew," she declared.

"I see," Johnson was very rigid and didn't take that news well. He turned to Macen, "May I have a word with you in private?"

"Are you sure you don't want to take a shower first?" Macen wondered.

"If I can survive, so can you," Johnson informed him.

Macen turned to Rockford, "Celeste, can you see to it that Kalista arranges for rooms for everyone? You can take them to the Team Room while they wait."

Rockford started to protest but he headed her off, "If Bob wants privacy it means we're going to discuss stuff you're not cleared for."

"But T'Kir…" Rockford began her protest.

"Was telepathically linked to me. She'd learn what was said eventually. I'll tell you what I can when I can, okay?" Macen offered.

"Okay," she relented. Turning to her charges she said, "Eric, get Hannah and Ian off of the runabout. The rest of you, follow me."

As she and the crowd exited, McMasters boarded the runabout and rousted the lovers out of there. While they departed, Macen addressed the shuttle bay crew. He wanted the runabout's logs accessible in less than seven minutes. He then gestured for Johnson to follow him.

The walk to the Infosys Center was a quiet affair. Several off duty crewmen unabashedly stared at the Admiral's filthy uniform. The Starfleet personnel had stopped trying to bathe after a day because of the stench of the water. It clung to them and only added to their own body odors. Ambassador Blevins accompanied them and her once natty suit now more closely resembled rags.

Once inside the Center, Macen offered refreshments. Blevins unashamedly asked for a bourbon and a bottle of water. Johnson requested water. Macen opted for coffee. He had a feeling that this was going to be long and uncomfortable if the Federation officials' emotions were any clue.

Macen motioned towards the available chairs and sat down at his desk. Johnson remained silent as his emotions churned. Macen and Johnson had been at odds before regarding UFP policy and Starfleet's culpability over Macen's contracts but he'd never been so _angry_ before.

Ambassador Blevins, Marti to her friends, definitely didn't count Macen as one of those. She'd seen all of her work over the course often years derailed by one action. She was hurt and confused. Yes, she was angry but the other feelings prevailed.

"I know you're gauging our feelings," Johnson ground out.

"You're not giving me much else to go on," Macen admitted.

"Damn it, Brin!" Johnson suddenly lashed out, "You single handedly ruined our mission to Felkor! We were there to _preserve_ the treaty not to break it with a presidential kidnapping."

"The mission was already a failure. The treaty had been broken and it was your friend Blek that broke it," Macen countered, "He brokered the alliance with the Typhon Pact through Shar, whom I'm sure you met."

Johnson's mind grated at the thought of the Andorian. Outwardly he said, "Accusations are one thing. Do you have proof?"

Macen pulled a padd out of one of his belt's utility pouches and handed it to Johnson. Johnson read it, went white, and handed it off to Blevins. She also lost all color.

"Where did you get this?" Johnson wanted to know.

"Blek's office in the Official Residence," Macen revealed, "We visited it while he was otherwise preoccupied."

"And you cracked their ciphers _without_ T'Kir?" Johnson didn't quite believe him.

"She left some nifty toys behind," Macen dryly retorted.

"I bet she did," Johnson murmured as he turned to face the com/comp, "Will the _Corsair's _logs be available now?"

"They should be or I'll have to space the hangar's OPS officer," Macen chuckled.

Johnson was suddenly grateful that the _Obsidian's_ computer network was tied into Starfleet's as it accepted his identification voice print and granted him access to most of the ship's files. He noted the restricted sections even he wasn't allowed to access.

"I see you've some open project file restricted. My access also allows me to see that Lisea, Hannah, and Celeste are the only ones permitted to access to these files, outside of yourself of course," Johnson observed.

"Your point?" Macen asked.

"Shouldn't Captain Riker be amongst those august personages?" Johnson was teasing, yet there was a reprimand in his words as well.

"_Captain_ Riker received the information he needs to govern this ship in a timely manner," Macen rebutted.

Johnson thought about pursuing it further but merely shrugged and viewed the runabout's mission logs. After seeing all of the data the SID team had pulled together after Auray's rescue and Shar's intervention, he finally accepted the truth that had already been laid out for him.

"That lying little weasel," Johnson said between clenched teeth, "He was going to give us up to the Orion Syndicate."

"And presumably the Syndicate would hand you over to the Typhon Pact," Macen concluded for him, "Would you like Blek brought in now?"

Johnson and Blevins exchanged a glance and then she primly answered, "That is an excellent idea, Commander."

* * *

Blek was escorted to the team's briefing room by two of Radil's Security officers. Macen had moved the venue to the briefing room next door because he didn't want Blek to have access to a secure area no matter how helpless he seemed. Blek was an Alpha in his society and that meant he was capable in physical combat as well as the political arena.

Macen had the two guards wait outside in the corridor. Blevins offered Blek a seat. Blek sat down and his eyes darted from hone Federation member to the other. The longer he waited in silence, the more nervous he got.

Felkorians are pack animals and without the support of his pack, Blek felt especially vulnerable. This was especially true as he faced down Macen, who had beaten his Protective Agents and captured him.

"I can explain everything! I…!" Blek began to babble.

"Quiet!" Macen sharply ordered.

Blek looked like someone had hit him the nose with a newspaper. He quieted right down.

Johnson spoke first, "_Former_ Conciliator Blek, we know about your coercion with the Typhon Pact. You broke faith with your friends on the Federation and you kidnapped her officials. This is tantamount to an act of war. Are you ready for a war?"

"The Typhon Pact has promised to protect us. They're building a naval base, what you would call a Starbase, in the Felkorian system," Blek proudly declared.

"They promised protection and then handed you to us," Johnson said coldly, "How loyal are they?"

Blek remained silent but his countenance was growing more and more downcast. Blevins took over, "What is before us now is your deposition. Your future status in the Federation, or an aligned state, depends upon your wishes and actions."

"You mean I have options?" Blek was bewildered.

"To be blunt, Chief Conciliator Nar is problematic. You're known quantity and a potentially valuable ally. In exchange for basing rights I'm certain Starfleet and its allies could make arrangements to return you to power," Johnson offered.

"Yes!" Blek barked and then he composed himself, "I mean, I choose that option."

"Then I'm certain the _Obsidian_ crew can grant you temporary lodgings until we drop out of warp and we can transfer to the _Intrepid_ for a comprehensive debriefing," Johnson declared.

Before Blek could speak, Macen summoned the two Security officers and told them to liaise with Kalista had get Blek some guest quarters. It was after Blek was gone that Johnson signaled McKinley and ordered him to comply with P'ris's wishes.

"Bob, before you get to a room of your own, I'd like Celeste and I to observe Blek's debrief," Macen insisted.

"Massoli can handle it and I'll be with her, so I don't see the need…" Johnson began to argue.

"Bob, it's important," Macen stated.

Johnson's face twisted as a wry grin grew upon it, "One of your 'little hunches'?"

"Something like that," Macen confirmed.

Johnson hesitated but finally he nodded, "All right. God knows my life has depended upon your hunches before. Y'know, I was ready to put a motion before the Council that your SID status be revoked. In fact, I was pretty set on revoking _all_ Outbound Ventures personnel's active statuses."

"I was curious if you'd go that route," Macen admitted.

"If you hadn't acquired the proof that Blek initiated the handover to the Pact, I would have thrown you to Jellico's wolves," Johnson confessed, "I have to know though, did you agree to Shar's terms _before_ or _after_ you learned about Blek?"

"Before," Macen honestly admitted.

"Dammit Brin! The mission was more important than my life! I know you meant well but there is a greater cause at stake. You of all people should know that," Johnson vented.

"It all worked out well in the end," Macen pointed out.

"You were justified by coincidence," Johnson snorted.

"I don't believe in coincidence," Macen asserted.

"No, you rely upon plain old fashioned dumb luck. Well, luck will only carry you so far," Johnson warned.

"Why don't I have Kalista show the pair of you to some quarters and you can bathe, change clothes, and have a meal in the Team Room?" Macen inquired, "Chef has been looking forward to trading recipes with you, Admiral."

"Learning to be a diplomat, eh Brin?" Johnson chuckled, "I accept your offer."

Blevins also agreed. Kalista showed up rather quickly. She liked Johnson and would bend over backwards to accommodate him…literally. Macen returned to his quarters to find Rockford waiting for him.

"So, was the Admiral feeling pissy?" she grinned.

"No more than expected," Macen conceded.

"Well, hurry up and take a shower. Radil's officers are showboating everyone around and we're all meeting up in the Team Room. Of course, Ian and Hannah will be discreetly late," Rockford couldn't help but eke approval.

"You haven't changed clothes," Macen observed.

She tapped the end of his nose with her forefinger, "And I haven't showered yet either. I've been waiting for you."

He noted the mischievous twinkle in her eye, "Well this should be interesting."

"It'll be a helluva a lot more satisfying then when you slipped your hand into my panties and started finger banging me in the middle of the night," she said slyly.

"Hey, I'm not the one that almost gave us away." Macen accused.

"But it was just getting good," Rockford pouted.

"I'll be sure to finish the job this time," he promised.

She began pulling him into the washroom. They hurriedly ripped each other's clothes off and he made good on his promise. Grace and Delaney arrived at the Team Room at the same time as they did and they bore wore knowing expressions. Rockford took impish delight in the fact and Macen was too thrilled to feel apologetic.

They were warmly greeted by the SID team and the former prisoners and it seemed everyone knew what had transpired but no one was talking. Johnson had arrived early to add some small flourishes to the meal that chef scribbled down for the next time. The meal went well. The watch changed over and a crowd filtered into the area looking for a meal.

Parva delightedly greeted Delaney and Johnson. Riker and Danan joined the admiral after saying their 'helloes' to Striker and Delaney and wanted the scoop in the completed mission. As far as they were concerned, it was a rousing success. Since the tables accommodated six, Blevins joined them as Johnson sat next to Rockford and next to her sat Macen. Danan sat down between Riker and Blevins.

Johnson began to explain Felkor's strategic importance, "Felkor sits in between two Typhon Pact members. It rests in a pocket between the Tholian Assembly and the Gorn Hegemony. That gave us a staging ground into the Pact's territory without investing in heavy infrastructure."

"If it was so vital, why weren't there any other Allied vessels in the system?" Rockford wondered.

"The Felkorian government requested that they be redeployed while the negotiations lasted," Johnson explained.

"And all of _this_ caught you by surprise?" Rockford snorted, "Thanks for reminding me why I never joined Starfleet."

Johnson gave her a pained look before continuing; "Now we can expect a territorial debate over the area we're now traversing. The Felkorians claimed it and so did the Ekosians before the Federation settled the matter. With Allied ships out of the area, both sides will reassert their claims. Only this time the matter will be settled by the Pact."

"Why not simply redeploy the forces that were originally stationed in Felkor's sector and establish the Federation's claim?" Rockford asked.

"It's not a simple matter of planting a flag on a star chart," Johnson replied, "We're talking constant patrols. And we're not simply discussing border patrols but reinforced fleet maneuvers because the Pact won't think twice about sacrificing Felkor or Ekos in a border war so long as their 'buffer nation' strategy is upheld."

Riker's comm badge sounded and he tapped it, "Riker here."

Shannon Forger's voice came over the line, "Captain, we're dropping out of warp and Captain McKinley is requesting we transfer personnel ASAP."

Riker looked to Johnson, who nodded, "Tell Jim the Admiral is on his way."

Johnson and Blevins excused themselves. Macen returned his tray a step behind the admiral. Johnson noted this and grinned.

"I suppose you're loitering about waiting for me to give you and your woman permission to come aboard." Johnson joked.

"Basically," Macen admitted.

"Okay, you two can come as well," Johnson agreed. He went to the table occupied by the two Security officers while Macen approached Radil.

The officers followed her out while Johnson approached Delaney, Grace, Striker, and Auray; "Ian, I'm giving you a 24 hour leave to stay aboard the _Obsidian_. Ensign Auray, you'll be accompanying me to the _Intrepid_ where you can get a full medical work up."

"Yessir," Auray took a final bite of food and Grace offered to dispose of her tray for her. Macen and Rockford led the ensign, the admiral, and the ambassador to the Transporter Room. Radil led the two other _Intrepid_ officers as they escorted Blek to the transporter. Striker, Blevins, Blek, Auray, and the two Security ratings transported over first.

Johnson, Macen and Rockford comprised the second wave. McKinley was at the transporter to meet them. Striker was still with him. Blevins had explained Blek's unique status and had ordered Lt. Jameson to assign a detail to the overthrown ruler. Now he was waiting for some answers.


	12. Chapter 12

9 Salvation

Macen filled out his after action report on a padd while Johnson briefed McKinley on recent events. Rockford leaned into Macen and reminded him of details along the way. Finally, Johnson had concluded and McKinley was waiting for Macen's part of the brief.

"You could always join the 24th Century and record an oral report," McKinley teased, "No one writes reports any more."

Rockford smirked, "He does. What's worse is he has me doing it as well."

"Brin, can I ask you why you insist upon the slowest route possible?" Johnson fired off his own verbal salvo.

"Because this way I can see what's been discussed and I'm not constantly reiterating the same points," Macen replied without diverting his attention.

"But could you spare us a moment?" Johnson wondered, "After all, as you pointed out, you can always pick up where you left off."

Macen gave a brief synopsis of his team's actions on Felkor. McKinley looked pained as he asked about certain legal issues, like assisting the Orion Syndicate in a coup.

"The coup was going to occur one way or another," Macen stressed, "This way we got Bob and the others back safely. I felt that was worth the price."

"I was expendable," Johnson pointed out.

"Yes, my orders made that quite clear. I was to rescue you or execute you. Whichever option presented itself. The case was, I couldn't accomplish either option so I introduced a third. If you don't like it, raise the issue with the Council and vote your conscience," Macen insisted.

Johnson pursed his lips. The comment irked him. McKinley jumped in.

"I'm sure your actions were well meant but in light of their repercussions they will probably have to be reviewed by Admiral Forger if not by the entire Council," he advised, "You've walked this path before. The best bet is to avoid arguments. Present your case and you'll probably be able to convince a majority."

Macen pointedly looked at Johnson, "We'll see, won't we?"

"You seem to think I owe you something," Johnson suggested.

"A 'thank you' might be nice since I saved your life…_again_," Macen pointed out.

"And you may wish to recall all the times the _Intrepid_ crew has come to your assistance. Factor that into your 'debt of honor' equations," Johnson angrily retorted.

"Bob!" McKinley snapped, "Brin's right. He saved your life. I believe him when he says there was no way of saving the Felkorian government. The data you showed me made it pretty plain that Blek was selling the Alliance out. He couldn't fulfill his orders, which included rescuing you if possible, and he did the best he could under adverse conditions. If you really want to him to evoke the execution clause of his orders, I'm certain he's in the mood to obey and I'll report it as being a justified shoot."

McKinley turned on Macen, "And you! Don't think this is an excuse to get insufferably smug or self righteous. I'm Captain of this boat and if I see you cop any more attitude I'll have you tossed out an airlock."

Macen grinned, "Aye, sir."

McKinley beamed, "That's more like it. It's about time you realized that I outrank you, even if your commission is currently inactive. Frankly, if I was Riker I would've confined you to the brig for insubordination a long time ago."

"Maybe it's because he's captain of the _Obsidian_ and the _Obsidian_ serves the SID and I outrank him in the SID framework," Macen replied dryly.

"Whatever," McKinley waved all of that aside, "While you're aboard _his_ ship, he's the Tin God and you're the puny peon."

Macen thought about it. Contrary to a line of reasoning he'd presented Riker, the _Obsidian_ was Riker's ship. True, Outbound Ventures owned the surveyor but Starfleet owned McKinley's cruiser and it was still _his_ ship. Riker was no longer directly under his command. The SID team served _alongside_ the Outbound Ventures crew. They certainly shared in the team's risk. Maybe it was time to cut Riker a little slack.

"Okay, you've made a valid point. I promise I'll take it up with Tom the next time I see him," Macen vowed.

McKinley's smile grew, "Now that _that_ is taken care of, I'll call Jennifer in and we can prep our debriefing questions."

* * *

Massoli arrived a few minutes later. She was technically off duty but she'd been in her office anyway. She'd been made privy to the _Corsair's _logs and she'd been pouring over every document and sensor scan that Macen's team had captured. Johnson met her at the door as it opened. He did a double take as he beheld her. After all, she'd been a blonde the last time he'd seen her.

"My God, Jennifer, your hair!" he breathed.

She self consciously ran a hand through it; "You don't like it?"

"I adore it just as I've always adored you," Johnson said smoothly.

Massoli knew that there was no overture here. Johnson appreciated the finer things of life. Delicious food, beautiful art, and beautiful women. His compliment was innocent even if it was ardent.

"Thank you, Admiral," Massoli drew herself and she wrapped her professional mien around herself, "How can I help you all?"

"I'll be debriefing former Conciliator Blek. I want you there beside me," Johnson explained.

Massoli's confidence wavered for a second as she glanced at McKinley, Macen, and Rockford; "It seems you have a formidable team gathered already, sir."

"Captain McKinley has other responsibilities. Commander Macen and Detective Rockford will be remotely observing the interrogation," Johnson revealed.

Massoli was amused, "So are we conducting a debrief or an interrogation?"

"It'll begin as a debrief," Johnson explained, "If Blek is resistant or refuses to cooperate, it'll become an interrogation."

"Shouldn't Commander Delaney be present?" she asked.

"Blek will be in the Security Bloc, I think the sight of the cells he can occupy will loosen his tongue," Johnson assured her.

"Forgive my impertinence, Admiral, but are you going to give me a free hand in there?" Massoli inquired.

"Of course," he replied.

She gave him a wry look, "I'm liable to be rather…_un_diplomatic."

"Commander, Blek has information to vital to Allied security. You have a fairly wide berth. Just avoid torturing him and we'll be fine," Johnson assured her.

She looked wistful, "Too bad. I've studied some Cardassian techniques that'd have him talking inside of a minute."

"Not even our Cardassian allies will support using such methods," Johnson scolded.

"At least not anymore," she flippantly reminded him.

Macen and Rockford were having a hard time containing their mirth at this point. Even McKinley couldn't keep a straight face. Massoli patted Johnson on the shoulder, "It's all right, Admiral. I'm just teasing you. I should've known better than to yank your chain after you've been a prisoner for more than a week."

"If you'd take a seat, we can begin," Johnson straightened out his uniform jacket and went to his seat. The only available chair was placed in front of the captain's desk, next to his. She didn't mind. She liked having the Captain's eye on her.

* * *

The debrief did indeed become an interrogation. Massoli revealed a cruel side to her nature that she thankfully kept restrained most of the time. Like his canine ancestors, Blek couldn't sweat, but she had him panting up a storm.

If Johnson was uncomfortable with her performance, it never showed. The only time he had a negative reaction was when Blek complained about the SID team referring to him as "pooch" and "Fido". Johnson pinched the bridge of his nose then and looked like a migraine was hitting him.

At their place in the Security Office, Macen looked at Rockford when this was brought up. She merely smiled and shrugged. He wasn't looking forward to the lecture Johnson was undoubtedly rehearsing.

The Admiral surprised them both by refraining. Rockford complimented Massoli on her interrogation techniques and they promised to exchange notes someday. However, McKinley had reported in that Starfleet had assigned the _Intrepid_ to a new mission. They were headed to Ekos and Zeon.

It was a blatant attempt to shore up influence in the region. Johnson's orders, direct from the Office of the President, were on file and awaiting his perusal. McKinley joined Johnson and Massoli in escorting the SID teammates to the transporter.

"It's too bad we didn't have more of an opportunity to visit," the Captain said.

"I just hate to be the one to break it to Hannah and Ian," Macen complained.

"It'll take at least an hour to get through to President Delane's office and cut to the chase," Johnson assured him.

Macen sighed, "That's something at least."

"And here I was hoping to have dinner with the pair of you," Massoli grumped.

"You could always have dinner with me, alone, in my quarters," McKinley suddenly expressed.

Massoli was definitely delighted and intrigued, "Just dinner?"

He smiled, "We'll see where our appetites lead us after the main course."

"It looks like you two are set for the evening," Rockford winked at Massoli. The Intelligence Officer looked beside herself with happiness as she winked back. Macen and Rockford took their places on the transporter pads and said a final farewell.

Massoli immediately took hold of McKinley's arm, "Do you have any idea how long I've waited for you to invite me to dinner?"

"I ask you to dinner all the time," McKinley defended himself.

"Dinner with _other_ people, silly goose. This is our first time _alone_, where we can drop all of our walls and become…_intimate_," Massoli could be heard saying as they headed for the Captain's cabin.

Johnson just grinned. McKinley was in good hands. _Now_ he had to find out what the President had in store for him now.

* * *

The trip back to _Serenity Station_ was uneventful. Macen had a chance to have a chat with Riker about the roles of the SID team aboard the _Obsidian_ and how the ship was well and truly Riker's. Riker appreciated the sentiment and the change in the SID team since Macen had hammered it into their heads, particularly Grace's.

Grace moped about for several days but it was understandable so everyone gave her space. Admirals Forger and Nechayev each reviewed Macen's actions on Felkor. In the end they justified his decisions but even then they did so reluctantly. The entire affair was seen as a black eye in the Allies' faces delivered by the Orion Syndicate and the Typhon Pact.

The Federation Council and Starfleet Command had thrown a wall of security up around those events and the SID's participation in them was disavowed. The entire agency was almost blacklisted and dismantled.

While the Council of 5 scrambled to save their respective agencies, Macen and Riker once again reviewed civilian contract offers. They were discussing one such case when Rockford bebopped into the office. She was carrying a drink holder with three cups of coffee. Bryce could be heard expressing her thanks so there had obviously been four cups to begin with.

The cups were all marked so they were easily able to divvy up whose was whose. Rockford plunked down into the couch and asked for a rundown on what the Command Duo was working on. Macen handed her three padds and informed her that they were considering all three contracts for a short term mission.

"I'd like your opinion on which one you think we'd best suit," Macen said.

"Okay," she replied. Truth be told, she was touched that he valued her opinion so much.

She'd just started into the first contract when she heard Bryce yelp, "You can't go in there!"

An austere Vulcan male suddenly stepped into the office. He wore brown travelling robes and bore an amulet signifying he had attained _kohlinahr_. He studied the three occupants.

"Which of you is Macen?" he asked without the slightest hint of inflection in his voice.

"I am," Macen rose out of his chair and gave the Vulcan the traditional salute.

The Vulcan returned it, "Then you are the keeper of the _katra_. You must accompany me."

"Why?" Macen let his confusion be known.

"I shall attempt _fal-tor-pan_ and to do so I need the _katra_ stored within your mind," the Vulcan explained.

"But you'd need a body…" Macen faltered.

"We have a body. It lives, as does the mind you carry within you. They must be reunited before there is damage to both your mind and that of T'Kir's," the Vulcan offered as an explanation.

"What body? Who are you?" Macen inquired.

"I am Solek. I am an Adept and a Healer. We have lost much time already and I fear damage may have occurred already," he stated.

Macen frowned, "All right, Healer Solek. I don't doubt your concern or your sincerity. I just doubt the existence of this 'body'. T'Kir's body was incinerated in Odin's upper atmosphere."

"That is what you _saw_ but you did not see the entirety of events. Come, we must board your ship. Dr. Tessa is there awaiting us. She has the body," Solek proclaimed.

Macen wondered if it could be true. Rockford interrupted his churning thoughts, "I think we should check it out, Boss."

Solek couldn't appreciate her gesture as she took Macen's hand. He was merely grateful that it seemed to steady the El-Aurian. Riker also came with. Their path ended in the _Obsidian's_ Sickbay.

"Healer Solek! You came!" she excitedly announced to an audience already in the know.

She began issuing instructions to her orderlies. They released a stasis chamber and there within was T'Kir's naked body. The lifted her with antigravs and put her on a biobed.

Rockford squeezed Macen's hand, bolstering his flagging composure. He admired her own resolve in the face of a threat. A revived T'Kir was her only competition for his affections. Yet she was putting on a brave face and being there for him. He loved her more than ever before.

"Take your place on this bed," Solek instructed.

"Wait a moment," Macen insisted, "Tessa, where did this body come from?"

"It's a clone of T'Kir," Tessa explained, "She'd told me about Ambassador Spock's experience with _fal-tor-pan_ and it was a Hail Mary play."

"The body breathes but it lacks a mind or a sense of self. It is a worthy receptacle for the _katra_," Solek diagnosed.

He turned to Macen, "If you claim to have loved this woman, you will grant her this second chance at life."

"Okay, let's do it." Macen lay down on the biobed.

Solek reached out and pressed against the nerve loci in the clone's skull with his fingers. He did the same to Macen. There was silence as Solek closed his eyes but the room practically bristled with energy.

* * *

Over the course of 8 hours, visitors came and went but Rockford and Tessa were constantly there. Tessa tried to reassure the Angosian, "This won't change anything between Brin and you, Celeste. He's moved on from T'Kir and in the strictest sense, this _isn't_ T'Kir."

Celeste took her eyes off of Macen's prone for the first time all evening and she met Tessa's eyes, "What do you mean?"

"The brain will receive all of T'Kir's memories but the actual _thinking_ and _personality_, those have to be retrained. Even then, she'll be close but she won't be the same person in the strictest sense. Besides that, I 'corrected' T'Kir's neurotransmitter problems," Tessa explained.

Rockford frowned, "Problems?"

"Yes, her heightened telepathy was the result of a genetic mutation. I eliminated the mutation so her brain will function like your average Vulcan's," Tessa defined her 'fix'.

"It is finished." Solek suddenly said. His voice cracked from lack of use. Tessa got him some water. Macen rose and joined Rockford.

"It's okay, Celeste. I'm fine. Just hungry and stiff," he tried to reassure her.

She studied his eyes, "She really is gone."

"What else do you see?" he asked.

"Love. You still love me," she sighed in relief.

"That was a given," he remarked.

"It didn't seem that way from this end, buster," she snorted.

"Anything else?" he wondered.

"Yeah, a big cloud of uncertainty," she revealed.

Macen grimaced, "The legalities are a tad murky."

"No, they are not." Solek said the foot of T'Kir's bed. Tessa and the orderlies were helping her into a robe so they could get her to the dressing room where she could put on the clothes that Solek had requested before his arrival.

"T'Kir _was_ your wife in her first life. That life died with her. Although she is reborn, she has been reborn in a legal sense as well as a physical. Her bonds to you are broken. As her mind adapts to its new body, she may eventually wish to reestablish a degree of contact with you. I will not sway her one way or the other. But I will express my profound wish that she leave you in the past where you belong," Solek declared, "You have moved on. Allow her to do the same."

Part of Macen recoiled at the thought but the rest of him accepted the simple logic behind it. Vulcans made far too much sense sometimes.

"You have my word, I won't initiate contact," Macen promised, "_If _she does contact me, I'll apply your logic to the situation and she'll see reason."

"It is for the best," Solek said and he turned to wait for T'Kir.

The SID pair made to leave when T'Kir emerged wearing white robes in the fashion of Solek's brown ones. He escorted her out of the Sickbay and Tessa led him to the airlock.

Macen and Rockford met up with Tessa at the airlock. Tessa looked pensive and Rockford asked her what was on her mind.

"All this time, I'd never really 'lost' her because she was in my stasis vault but now…" Tessa faltered.

Rockford hugged her and Tessa melted into the embrace, "Why don't you call Galen 3? I'm sure he'd love to be with you. It'll bring you two even closer."

Tessa managed a weak smile, "I guess. Are you two gonna be okay?"

Rockford looked up at Macen and he looked down and drank in her eyes. They both smiled.

"We're good," Macen assured her.

"In fact, we're better than ever," Rockford said, "In fact, I need to be put to bed."

Macen smirked and she swatted him, "I need _sleep_. However I'm of a mind to grant a boon. This one shall be that you can hold me while I sleep."

"I couldn't ask for more," Macen promised.

"I may keep you after all," Rockford decided.

They strolled off to their quarters, hand in hand. Contract reviews could wait until the following day. Once in their bed, they snuggled in close and fell asleep. Nothing could disturb them as long as they had one another.


	13. Chapter 13

3 Salvation

Epilogue

Captain Thrax looked around the _Endeavor's_ bridge. The 1st Watch had been relieved two hours ago. Before the "monolith incident" two weeks ago, the stations had been manned by a skeleton crew simply maintaining orbit. The only station's that had been fully manned were the Science stations and even that was just the spillover from the labs.

Every major system had been blown by the subspace pulse that tore through the system. Sonya Gomez, his Chief Engineer, had put as much shielding as their tech allowed into the restored systems but the only way to truly test it was to unleash a second pulse, which even the desk jockeys at Starfleet Command weren't willing to do.

Now every station was fully manned and ready 24/7. Right now, Lt. Commander Gev was on the surface with Commander Hennessy and Lt. Prentiss. So was Commander Gomez for that matter. They were running every conceivable experiment they could think of on the monolith and every one yielded the same results: _nothing_.

"Sir?" the Tactical Officer suddenly spoke. She sounded nervous, "There's a subspace pulse inbound. It's on the same carrier wave as the last pulse except that it's weaker."

"Point of origin?" Thrax asked.

"From the Core Regions, sir," she reported, "My guess is there's a repeater beacon located out of sensor range."

Thrax had been thinking the very same thing, "And it's headed for Omicron?"

"Yes sir. ETA is in three minutes," she confirmed for him.

"Shields up. Go to red alert. Alert the Away Team." Thrax ordered. They'd be prepared this time.

The Tactical Officer did a running countdown in fifteen second increments. When she reached zero everyone held their breath. Nothing happened.

"Anything?" he asked.

"It barely dented our shields," the Tactical Officer reported, "Sir! The Away Team is signaling."

"I'll take it in my Ready Room. Flag all of our sensor readings and send them to the Science Department for analysis," Thrax briskly strode into his Ready Room.

He sat down behind his desk and activated the comp/comm. Commander Hennessey's features filled the screen. She looked decidedly worried.

"Status report, Commander," Thrax decided to get the formalities out of the way.

"The team's fine," she reported, "Some of the equipment blew but everything Sonya whipped up custom made held together."

"Excellent news!" Thrax clapped his hands together, "What was the effect upon the monolith?"

"That's why I'm calling, sir," she said.

"And?" he was growing impatient.

"There's a message," she said succinctly.

"There is?" he couldn't believe it, "Are you certain, Commander?"

"Yes sir. The message appeared after the artifact displayed an energy distortion," Hennessy explained.

"So what? It's probably saying it's out of order. We wouldn't be able to tell because it's written in that gibberish it prefers," Thrax said dismissively.

Hennessy was growing frustrated, "Sir! It's not in the usual language. It's in Omicron."

"Omicron?" again, he refused to believe it, "You mean we can read it?"

"Yes sir," she nearly deflated from the effort of getting this far.

"Well, what's it say?" Thrax demanded.

"'We're coming.'" She informed him.

"That's it?" Thrax was disbelieving again.

"Yes sir," Hennessy felt quite defeated at this point.

"Who's coming?" he finally asked.

Hennessy struggled with the desire to beat her head up against the nearest wall, "We don't know. Presumably it's whoever was intended to receive the signal we sent."

"But we don't know who that was," Thrax realized.

Hennessy sighed heavily, "I believe that's the point,"

"I'd best alert Starfleet Command," Thrax suddenly decided.

"That would be recommended, sir. You do that," she urged. He signed off and her shoulders slumped. Thrax's career had only blossomed because his uncle was a Federation Councilmember who voted for heavy defense expenditures. To be fair, the family line had a proud history in Starfleet. It was just the latest scion of the name that was a nincompoop.

Hennessy had taken the time to familiarize herself with every theory and study concerning the Omicron. If they _were_ an artificially engineered race and they were potentially calling on their creators, or a similarly advanced culture, then the Alliance's troubles with the Typhon Pact may be a drop in the proverbial bucket.


End file.
